A Few Righteous Men
by madsthenerdygirl
Summary: The forces of Heaven and Hell are preparing for battle, and Castiel is caught in the middle. Reaching out to their allies, Dean and Castiel will have to depend upon each other - and trust in their friends - if Team Free Will is going to come out on top. AU take on Season Eight.
1. Chapter 1

**Here it is! The first revamped chapter is up. I'll be posting a whole bunch of chapters all within the hour but I just wanted to remind you all… some things will be the same, but others will be different. It's basically turned into an entire Season 8 rewrite, which I was **_**not**_** planning but, well, my imagination jumped in the Impala and got away from me. In the end, though, I'm much more satisfied with the story, and I hope that you all are too!**

Dean Winchester hated witches.

To be fair, he hated a lot of things – salads, demons, asshole angels – but witches were definitely towards the top of the list. Sometimes he'd rather deal with Crowley than these spell-casting bitches.

But, alas, today it was decided that he would have to deal with a massive coven of no-good, potion-brewing, toil-and-trouble-creating witches.

Some days Dean really hated his life, too.

There was one upside to battling it out with opponents who could actually put up a good fight; he got out a lot of his frustration. Like his hates, Dean had a long list of frustrations (Sam taking up about half of the entries) but his main source of anger at the moment was Cas.

The guy had escaped from Purgatory (somehow) and said that he wanted to be a hunter. Which, all right, was a little worrisome but absolutely fantastic at the same time. It meant Dean got to have Cas around all the time. It meant that Cas was officially part of the team.

And then he just up and left, only calling when, once again, he needed Dean's help. So much for being one of the guys.

Long story short, Dean felt taken for granted. He was all but certain that Cas knew where Dean's loyalties lay. Blame it on the stress but Dean had found it kind of hard to hide things in Purgatory. But instead of outright saying yes or no, which would have been appreciated, Cas just… whatever. Whatever, forget it, moving on. Dean was starting to sound like a teenage girl on a hormone trip and that was _not_ him. Talk-about-your-feelings and declarations were Sam's territory.

Right now, what he needed was stuff to beat into a pulp. And these demon-worshipping weird sisters were giving him the outlet he needed.

"Might want to hurry up with that, Sam!" Dean called out to the other room, where his brother was currently trying to halt a destructive spell created to affect the small town in revenge for some old family feud.

"Just give me a couple more minutes!" Sam replied. Dean grunted, swinging his blade outwards as another witch came at him, screeching some kind of curse. He'd gotten quite attached to the katanas and other swords they'd found in their new digs, and was eager for an excuse to use them in a fight.

A bright, colorless light filled the room, and as quick as Dean could blink the witches began to fall. He spun around, watching as one by one they were overcome by Grace and bloodlessly slaughtered. Dean turned frantically in a circle, trying to find the source of the sudden assistance. His mind could only conjure up one angel that would be here, now, helping him out – for selfish reasons or not.

"Cas?" He called out.

The word hung heavy in the air, suspended as if caught in the act of falling. The whole spun dizzily but the air was frozen, still, for the space of a heartbeat. And then the word fell, crashing to the floor with a shatter and sending the pieces flying through the air, piercing the stillness and ripping the silence to shreds.

Instead of his trenchcoat-sporting angel, another being stepped forward from emptiness. It was a teenager, and female, with bright red hair and a thin frame. Her eyes glowed brightly, and the face, although young, was hard and haunted. Unlike every other angel he'd ever seen, this one wasn't wearing a suit. Even Cas wore a tie and all, despite the addition of the trenchcoat. This girl was sporting jeans – nice ones, too – a tank top and a big, oversize army jacket. In other words, she was dressed like a normal teenager.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean asked, wary. In his experience, nobody helped you out without demanding something in return, and this girl, although obviously an angel, was probably sent by the Host for some reason or another.

Sam emerged from the next room, staring in suspicious curiosity at this new member of the party. The girl glanced at him dismissively and turned back to Dean.

"You are Dean Winchester?" She asked.

"Yeah." Dean responded.

"Then you must be Sam." She nodded towards the younger Winchester, who nodded in reply.

The girl nodded. "My name is Magdalena, and I was sent to protect you."

"Protect us?" Sam looked puzzled.

"Not you – him." Magdalena inclined her head towards Dean. "Although I was told that keeping you safe would be helpful, Dean Winchester is my priority."

"Who sent you?" Dean demanded.

"My elder brother." Magdalena replied. "Castiel."

Dean had so many questions that they clogged up his throat, choking him. What the fuck?

"Well, this is interesting." Sam grinned.

Dean would have told him to shut up, but he still couldn't pull his voice out from the pit of his stomach where it had dropped.

::::::::::::::::::::::::

"So you're trying to organize everything?" Magdalena asked, surveying the bookshelves and massive piles of books scattered about the apartment.

"Pretty much." Sam explained. "The order kind of fell apart after a demon attack in the '50s, so it's a little disorganized."

"I can help, if you like." Magdalena offered tentatively.

Sam nodded. "Sure." He agreed.

Dean entered the room, toting a six-pack of beer. "Don't mind me." He muttered sarcastically as he brushed past Magdalena. She watched him as he plopped himself in front of the television, languidly flipping channels and popping open the first bottle of beer.

"Don't mind him." Sam defended quietly. "Everybody copes somehow."

Dean took a sip of beer and spit it out, spewing liquid everywhere. "What the hell!? What is this, ginger ale?" He glared at the only resident supernatural being.

Magdalena was unapologetic. "The amount of alcohol that you consume is unhealthy, both mentally and physically." She explained. "I was told to protect you, and I am."

Dean glared at her. "And just why were you sent to protect me?"

The hunter hadn't said a word to Magdalena since she'd shown up and introduced herself, leaving Sam to fill in the awkward silence, but now he was determined to get information out of her.

"I don't know."

"Where is Castiel?"

"Indisposed."

"Where, 'indisposed'?"

"I don't know, exactly. Somewhere in Heaven."

"What's he doing?"

"I don't know."

"Why did he send you instead of someone else?"

"I'm the only one he could trust."

"What is he up to?"

"I don't know."

"Where is he?"

"I told you, I don't know."

"You have to know _something_, damn it!"

Dean jumped up from the couch, looking like he was going to charge the young angel. Magdalena glared back at him stubbornly. With several muttered curses, Dean snagged a sword and stalked off to hack at the air.

"What my brother sees in him, I do not know." Magdalena observed.

"I take it you agree with the rest of the Host about humans?" Sam asked.

"Not in the slightest. Humans are fascinating." Magdalena argued. "But this one… your brother is very crude, Sam Winchester. I hope that I don't offend you."

"It's all right. Dean's a bit of a rough diamond." Sam replied. "He's not having the easiest time of it. But… did Castiel say… anything? A message for Dean, or anything like that?"

"No." Magdalena turned away, signifying that the conversation was over. "Shall we start with the organizing?"

Sam complied, eager not to start an argument.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

"You should not be here, Little One."

"I had to see how he was doing."

The screams were constant, echoing throughout the entirety of Paradise. Such inhuman screams of agony surely belonged in Hell, not in a place designated for beauty, love and joy. But then, Heaven hadn't been a place for any of those things in millennia.

"You can hear how he's doing."

"Joshua… I have to stop them. Please, let me stop them."

"You would only end up like your brother. Would he want that for you?"

"It's stupid. Giving this all up for one man… Joshua, I've seen what they can do. I've lived it. And they weren't giving me their worst. I can't… I can't hear this. I can't know he's in such pain and just sit there and do _nothing_."

:::::::::::::::::::::::

_The pain was unimaginable. She had no idea that they could do something like that – that it was even possible. But it was possible. It was happening to her, right now. She couldn't help but scream. Until they took away her voice, and she couldn't do anything but writhe helplessly._

::::::::::::::::::::::::

"There is only one way to help him, Little One."

"I don't see what protecting this man can do for him. It won't free him."

"Not in the literal sense, perhaps. But it will make him free…"

"Inside, yes, I get it."

Another scream, louder than the ones before, reached their ears and she flinched.

"It gives him peace."

::::::::::::::::::::::::

"_Swear that you'll protect him, Magdalena."_

"_But…"_

"_Swear it."_

_She sighs, the weight crushing her heart but she has no other choice. She loves her brother. He alone has given her anything good she's ever had in her existence. So she promises, despite the fear and grief that engulf her._

"_I swear, by my very existence, by our Father and the whole of the Host, that I will protect and serve Dean Winchester until the end of my days."_

_The oath is one she's heard every soldier repeat a thousand times, but she adds her own at the end._

"_I swear this on my love for you, my brother."_

_He hugs her, and she grips him as tightly as she can. She fears, oh how she fears, that she will never see him again._

_Or worse._

::::::::::::::::::::::::

"That doesn't sound like peace."

"It gives him strength. He trusts you to carry this out for him, Little One. It may not seem like much to you, but to him, it is everything."

"I'd pray that you're right, but I don't know who I'd pray to."

"Don't be so hard on our Father."

"Well I am. If Castiel is the prophesied leader then He should take care of him, not leave him to our brethren like this."

"He may have His reasons."

She didn't reply. She didn't know how to without being disrespectful. Her vessel, Christine, had a few choice words but Magdalena kept them to herself.

"I should get back. Who knows what that idiot might have gotten to while I was gone."

"The elder Winchester is many things, Little One, but an idiot he is not."

There was a tense pause, broken only by the distant screams.

"It's all right to be afraid."

She wasn't afraid. Fear suggested the possibility of something happening. She was full of dread. To dread and to fear were very similar, but with one distinct difference – with dread, there was no possibility. There was certainty.

::::::::::::::::::::::::

He sat down on the edge of his bed, as he had every night since the 'Looney Tunes Case', as he and Sam had dubbed it. He looked around the room almost furtively, glancing over his shoulder. He hesitated, scraped up whatever courage hadn't already fled him, and began.

"You got your ears on, Cas?" He asked. He didn't let himself pause. If he kept going, he could pretend that Cas had never gotten a chance to respond, rather than choosing to keep silent.

"You know I'm not one for praying. 'Cause in my book, it's the same thing as… begging." He swallowed, his hands slowly clenching and unclenching.

The prayer varied slightly, but the gist of it was always the same. He wanted Cas back. He didn't know why the angel was staying away, but now that he'd sent another angel specifically to protect Dean, the hunter was getting worried. What was going on with Cas that he felt Dean needed protection? How could he trust this new angel?

The new arrival added a desperation that Dean hadn't known was possible. He felt half-empty, starved in a way that had nothing to do with food. If Castiel felt Dean needed protecting… who protected the son of a bitch every day and night in Purgatory? Who had fought off demons and Leviathan and every other supernatural asshole to get in his way? Who had been hunting since he was seven? Dean was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, and Cas knew it. Once, they'd treated each other like children, innocents that needed protecting. But time had changed that. They were equals now. He knew it, and Cas knew it. So if Cas sent over an angelic bodyguard… then 'bad' did not even begin to cover it.

"Just let me know what we're in for, Cas." Dean's voice was quiet, barely reigned in. He had to keep total control, or he'd have no control at all. "We promised – no more secrets or holding back. We're a team, remember?"

_Did those words in Purgatory mean nothing?_ Dean didn't dare speak that thought aloud.

His heart beat wildly, pounding against his ribs and making his entire chest vibrate. He turned slowly, looking over his shoulder. Instead of being met with a tan coat and blue eyes, all he saw was bare wall and empty air. His chest constricted, becoming unbelievably tight, his bones cracking with spider web fractures as they slowly pierced his soft, vulnerable – damnably vulnerable, even after all this time – heart.

Damn it, he wanted to see him. He wanted to see Cas cock his head to the side, or troll the shit out of him when he asked the angel 'what's the word'. He wanted…

Well, he wanted a lot of things, but that didn't exactly mean he'd get them, now did it?

Dean took in a breath, feeling his chest expand, enlarging the hollow space within him. Cas wasn't showing up now matter what he did. As long as he had nothing to lose…

"And I love you, man."

There. He said it.

And still, no Cas.

**But guys, no, seriously – "I love you, man." FANFIC HAS BECOME REALITY. I AM DROWNING IN MY FEELS. *****cough* Sorry, minor fangirl moment there. Moving on…**

**This story was highly influenced by the amazing flutiebear. She does fantastic meta – including a breakdown of Season 7 – and really helped me to appreciate the show more. Do yourselves a favor and check her out!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Concerning the long wait between postings… well, I'd like to say I helped avert an Apocalypse on December 21****st****, but it was just the holidays.**

**On a side note, is it okay to admit that I'm nervous? This was such a massive undertaking and now I'm freaking out that it's a load of crap. May Chuck have mercy on my soul.**

"I can't do this." Dean said abruptly as he entered the room. Magdalena looked over from where she and Sam were attempting – by combination of a recipe found online and angel mojo – to make a healthy, home cooked dinner. So far, they'd managed to avoid setting the stove on fire.

Sam held up a bag of takeout, a backup in case dinner turned out to be inedible. "But I brought–"

"No, I mean, I can't sit here. Like this. Just… just… I can't." Dean paced back and forth for a moment before storming out the door. He didn't slam it behind him, not quite, but it closed rather firmly.

"Well, that was about as close to a confession as Dean's ever going to get." Sam observed ruefully.

Magdalena looked at the closed front door, puzzled, then at Sam. "Confession? Like in…" She paused, as if listening to something. "Oh. I see. Dean is 'emotionally constipated'."

Sam blinked, then burst out laughing. "Well, you and Castiel have that in common."

Magdalena just looked confused.

:::::::::::::::::::::

He didn't want Aaron. The guy was attractive, sure, but Dean didn't want…

Okay, maybe he did. Kind of.

When the guy flirted with him, he flirted back, because he was attractive and Dean was frustrated and feeling just a little bit taken for granted by a certain feathery assed son of a bitch.

Cas knew. Cas knew about Dean's… well, yeah, that. And Cas knew that Dean knew that Cas knew.

And now he fucking sounded like the twenty-five-but-pretending-to-be-sixteen star of the latest high school chick flick.

The point was… okay, maybe it wasn't the point, but the truth of the moment was he had Aaron's number written on a piece of scrap paper in his wallet, where it was currently burning a hole in his pocket and in his brain.

There was a pay phone just outside a diner only a ten-minute drive away. Aaron seemed surprised to hear from him, but not in a bad way.

In fact, he invited Dean to a local bar for a few drinks.

And – he was going to Hell a second time for this – he said yes.

::::::::::::::::::::::

"How do you know Castiel, anyway?" Sam asked, setting down his mug of coffee. "Were you in the same garrison?"

"I wasn't in any garrison. Can I have some?" Magdalena gestured towards the steaming drink.

"Sure." Sam went to pour her a cup. "You guys don't eat or anything, though. This might be a little strong."

"Christine likes coffee." Magdalena replied. "She hasn't had it in a couple years, though. It'll be nice for her."

Sam stared. "Christine?"

"My vessel – Christine Tiberias. She was dying of leukemia when she was chosen as my vessel."

"Ah." Sam nodded, sitting back down and passing her a cup. "So…" He gestured to Magdalena's clothes. "Why no suit?"

"I possessed Christine while she was dying in a hospital. She didn't really have the chance to get on her ceremonial clothes. And she likes these clothes. I got some money and we went shopping for them." Magdalena shrugged. "It was fun."

"She wanted an army jacket?"

"That was my idea." Magdalena modeled the jacket proudly. "It's military, right? Castiel was a soldier. So… I thought…" She shrugged. "It'd help me get into the mindset."

_Kind of like Dean wearing Dad's jacket._ Sam didn't voice that thought – he'd learned long ago that voicing your snarkier (or more truthful) thoughts landed you in hot shit. Instead, he chose a safer route of conversation.

"Are you saying… you communicate with your vessel? Talk to her?"

"Doesn't every angel?" Magdalena inquired.

Sam continued to stare. Magdalena kept talking, oblivious to his shock. "It's only fair, you know. We're in their bodies, taking over them… it's only polite to get to know them, I think. And Christine is very kind in helping me to understand humans. If we're supposed to help man, then shouldn't we understand him? Besides, she gives me someone to talk to. With Christine, I'm never alone."

She spoke with the buoyant certainty of a young child, which didn't match the fearful hardness of her features or the anger she harbored. In all of his experiences with angels, including Lucifer's opinions and stories about them while the devil was occupying his head, Sam had never met an angel who seemed, well… young. Castiel might have been naïve about some things (porn, hamburgers, normal human interaction) but he was still an ancient being, and Sam never forgot that. He doubted Dean did, either, although Dean's thoughts were probably more about the supposed pure nature of the angel rather than Castiel's ancient power.

But Magdalena didn't remind him of a supernatural creature that had been around since before the time of man so much as a creature who'd suddenly become supernatural and was trying to work it all out.

"That's… nice." He paused, wondering what to say next.

"You think I'm strange." Magdalena offered up. She sounded resigned, like this was something she was used to.

"You run into strange things every day in my life." Sam shrugged.

"It's because I have a soul." Magdalena sounded bitter about it. "Only angel created with a soul. Apparently, my Father and Lucifer had a little miscommunication about exactly why Lucifer was so pissed about this human thing, and so Father created me. He figured that if He created an angel with a soul, Lucifer would see that the two species aren't so different. 'Course, now Lucifer was even angrier that Father just didn't get it, and so the war began." Magdalena played with the mug in her hands, taking a sip. "And so did the Host's hatred of me."

Sam nodded. "You're rather upfront about these things." He noted.

"I don't see any other way to be about it. You'll find out eventually." Magdalena took another sip and muttered. "I don't see how you can like this bitter stuff."

Sam opened his mouth, and then realized that Magdalena was talking to Christine and not to him. Magdalena must have gotten a reply because she resumed speaking to Sam. "Of course, it's rather annoying. I can be reborn, of course, because only creatures with souls can be resurrected, but there seems to be the odd side affect of not naturally understanding my powers. It's like I have to learn everything while everyone else does it instinctively. Castiel taught me a few things, like killing demons and such… but it's not easy."

"I don't suppose the others like you."

Magdalena laughed, a harsh and sour sound. "I'm the straw that broke Lucifer's back. Lucifer, the favorite, always following Michael around like a puppy. Like me? They hate me."

"You're in good company, then." Sam held up his mug like he was proposing a toast, and maybe he was. "The angels hate me, too."

"I heard." Magdalena paused. "You'll get into Heaven, though. It's not the Paradise that most humans believe but it's nice. The angels tend to leave the souls alone."

"Nice to know. Last time I was there we weren't exactly given a warm welcome." Sam grimaced at the memory.

Magdalena nodded. "Castiel told me about Zachariah. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize – you didn't do anything." Sam grinned. "I'm not Dean; I don't blame every angel for something one angel did, you know?"

Magdalena smiled tentatively. "He is very protective of you." She noted.

"Dean? Yeah." Sam shrugged. "He's my big brother."

"Castiel was always telling me, don't leave the Garden, don't go to Earth, stay safe, avoid the other angels… it was worse after they took my wings. But I worshipped the ground he walked on. Like Rachel or Balthazar."

"Without the…?"

"Gross." Magdalena laughed with genuine mirth this time.

"Did they really take your wings?" Sam hadn't thought that was possible.

Magdalena stood up and turned, her top vanishing as she did so. Sam got a good look at her back and was stunned. Two long, vicious scars ran down her back, one on either side of her spine.

"Are they – why aren't they sewn up?" Sam went over to her, carefully examining the gaping wounds. "I can take care of this if you want."

"Don't bother – they keep reopening. My wings are growing back, slowly, but it drains my Grace."

"Does it hurt?"

"Constantly." Magdalena turned to face him, her top appearing back on her. "It's an injury to my true form, so it shows up even on my vessel."

"Why?"

Magdalena sat back down and reached out, her fingers curling around the coffee cup with a tentative possessiveness, pulling it to her and cradling it gently. "Naomi wanted to know where Castiel was." She replied.

"And did you tell her?"

Magdalena looked at him the way he might have looked at Dean proposing something ludicrous. "What do you think?" She replied.

"No, of course not. That was a stupid question." Sam sat back down as well.

"She found him in the end, of course." Magdalena muttered. "The bitch."

"Whoa. I didn't think you guys cursed." Sam joked.

Magdalena smiled like a delighted five-year-old. "Christine taught me."

Sam's laugh burst out of him in surprise. "What did this Naomi want with him?"

"A promotion." Magdalena griped. "She wants to be archangel."

Sam frowned. "Aren't archangels, well, created that way?"

"Yes, but… there's a ceremony – it's complicated, but it's like a… a passing of the torch. You need the blessing of our Father and an archangel sword, as well. Father's being rather quiet at the moment but Naomi figures that two out of three will be enough."

"Who's sword will she take?"

"When an archangel dies, their sword is supposed to return to its resting place lining the path to the Throne of God. Gabriel's has been missing and Michael is technically still alive, and Lucifer's was taken from him when he fell and was given to Aniel – Chamuel got it after she Fell – so Naomi would get Raphael's."

"Figures that trickster would find a way to hide his sword."

Magdalena looked uncomfortable, but said nothing.

"So why would nabbing Castiel get her archangel status?"

Sam's phone rang, breaking up the silence with its shrill twitterbingbing noise. Sam gave a sigh but snapped it open.

"Hello?"

"Hey Sam, it's Kevin. Listen – I translated the rest of the tablet. You're going to want to hear this."

::::::::::::::::::::::::

He couldn't do it.

Dean was never one to talk about his emotions, and he didn't always like to admit them to himself, but he wasn't necessarily out of touch with them. Ignoring something meant you were hyper-aware, not unaware.

It all went well at the beginning. But when all he could think about was how Cas would feel and taste and sound, and trying to squelch the wish, the begging plea in his head that it was Cas with him, well… Dean was nobody's knight in shining armor but he had his own sense of honor. He wasn't going to be with a guy while thinking about someone else.

Aaron was a little annoyed when Dean stopped short, but once he realized that Dean was all tangled up with someone else and not second-guessing his sexuality, he was surprisingly sympathetic. He pulled some beers out of the fridge, put on his shirt, Dean buttoned up his pants and they sat down and talked. Dean didn't tell him everything – he doubted he would ever tell anyone everything – but he told him enough.

At the end of it, Aaron instructed him to go home and do something about it rather than sitting on his ass.

And for once, Dean did as he was told.

:::::::::::::::::::

"Who's that?" Magdalena asked.

"Kevin – he's a prophet." Sam whispered.

"Oh! Can I talk to him? I've only heard about prophets; I've never actually met one before." Magdalena sounded as eager as a puppy with the prospect of a walk.

"I'll put him on speaker." Sam said in a humoring manner. "Kevin, you're on speaker."

"Oh, is Dean there?"

"No. Her name's Magdalena. She's an angel."

"I am sent to guard Dean Winchester. And Sam Winchester, but mostly Dean. Castiel's instructions were very clear." Magdalena recited.

Sam was reminded of an old skit on _Sesame Street_, where a little girl repeats her mother's grocery list, "A loaf of bread, a container of milk, and a stick of butter."

"Nice to meet you, Magdalena." Kevin replied politely. "Okay, so Sam, I translated the text and there are apparently several tasks that have to be completed in order to close the Gates of Hell."

"Does it say what the tasks are?" Sam asked.

"Yeah – but they can only be completed by a certain person: the son of John Winchester."

"What?" Sam couldn't believe this. He could not fucking believe this. They had to do what now? Again? Couldn't someone else be the chosen ones for once?

He wondered if Harry Potter ever felt like this.

"And it's really specific. The thing is, it says which son it is, and then it gives three descriptions. I'm having a little trouble with those."

"Oh, yes, that's quite common." Magdalena cut in. "It's to make certain that the person is the right one. What does it say?"

Kevin started to speak in Enochian, and Sam let the words wash over him. He didn't understand Enochian, and possibly never would, but the phrasing and syntax sounded almost familiar to him by that point. Magdalena helpfully translated it into English.

"Youngest of the blood of…" She paused. "Basically, John Winchester."

Sam frowned. Something tugged at him when she said that.

"Yes, those are the descriptors. The first is: Replacement for another. The second is: Abandoned for another. The third is: Mothered by another." Magdalena paused. "Christina says you got the short end of the stick." She told Sam.

"That's just the thing…" Sam replied. "I don't… think… I don't think it's me."

Magdalena frowned. "But you are the youngest son of John Winchester. And don't those descriptors fit you?"

"The descriptors barely fit me. You'd have to tilt your head and squint." Sam argued. "And the fact is, I'm not the youngest son of John Winchester."

"What now?" Kevin sounded about as surprised as Magdalena looked.

"I'm the youngest son of John and Mary Winchester, but my dad had another kid with someone else. His name is Adam Milligan." Sam explained.

"Looks like we have to get this Adam Milligan, then." Magdalena stood up. "Where is he?"

"That's the issue." Sam grimaced. "He's kind of indisposed at the moment."

"Indisposed, how?"

Sam sighed. "He's trapped with Michael and Lucifer in the Cage."

Whoever said angels were emotionless had never met Magdalena. She blanched, then swayed, then gripped the chair to keep from falling over.

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "My thoughts exactly."

"Uh… this complicates things, I'm guessing?" Kevin asked.

There was the sound of the front door, and Dean sauntered in. "What did I miss?" He asked.

"Everything." Magdalena muttered.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The old man paced the room methodically, measuring his footsteps carefully. When he reached a wall, he would turn smartly and resume his deliberate march to the other end. Several other figures stood by, including another old man, this one with a flowing beard, who was tapping his fingers against the table he was sitting at.

"Confound it." He muttered. "Surely Legba's finished by now."

"Who knows?" The first elder did not change the course of his pacing. "He was always a mite unpredictable."

"I still don't like the idea of relying upon him so heavily." The sitting man argued. "He could turn on us in a minute, leave us in the lurch. Surrounded by enemies, or picking up the pieces after defeat…"

"You mean the exact same thing you've been doing for the past thousand years?" A smooth voice inquired. It was the voice of a genteel British gentleman, deceptive in its calm manner. It was almost upbeat, in a stoic, British fashion.

Everyone turned to greet the newcomer, the gazes ranging from suspicious to tentatively hopeful to downright distrustful.

"The point is, gentlemen – and ladies – you need me, just as I need you." The voice continued, the figure hidden in shadow. "Unlike the rest of you who spent however many years licking your wounds and relying upon a dying demographic of worshippers, I adapted."

"The Hindu gods managed just fine–"

"And so they did. Good on them." The voice cut off the sitting elder as one would a protesting child. "But even some life survived the destruction of the dinosaurs. Someone always manages to persevere naturally. But you did not. The time has come to take what we want – what we deserve – by force. You understand that. And you also understand that you cannot do it without me. I command the only army capable of defeating the Host and unseating the people's image of the one God. You might not like it, but there it is.

"I want to help because we're family. We're the old set. But if you don't want me…"

"Of course, Legba." The pacing man finally ceased his movements, turning and facing the hidden figure. "We do trust you…"

"Because we have no choice but to…" The sitting man grumbled.

"But everyone is on edge – especially because of the means we must employ."

"The demons are a loyal bunch of suckers; I'll give them that." The man known as Legba replied. "They'll do whatever I say… especially if it promises the closing of Heaven, the destruction of angels and, of course, revenge for their beloved Lucifer." He sneered the last word.

"You won't let them try and open the Cage, will you?" The sitting man asked.

It was hard to tell in the gloom, but it looked as though Legba waved a hand dismissively. "That isn't possible for me to do. Not without some unwanted help, anyway. For all they know, Satan is dead. I am their king now."

"And are all the preparations ready?" A new person, this one a woman of indescribable beauty, inquired.

It was impossible to see, but everyone in the room could sense Legba's chillingly satisfied smile. It was the smirk of satisfaction, of a job well done.

"Oh yes." He said, his voice soft. "Never fear, sweetie – everything is in place. The time to act draws nearer with each passing moment, and soon… soon Heaven will be trembling with fear, and our revenge will be at hand."

**You know Dean and pie? That's me with reviews.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Man, these chapters just keep getting longer and longer. But who needs sleep, right?**

"So there are three trials… tasks… things, that have to be completed to prove that the person is worthy to close the Gates of Hell."

"Yup."

"And that person is Adam."

"Yup."

"Our half-brother."

"Yup."

"Who is currently stuck, in the Cage, with Satan and Daddy's Boy."

"That's the gist of it."

Dean sighed and sank down into a chair. "I really do not want to meet Michael again."

"You think I want to see Mr. Cat's Cradle?" Sam inquired.

Magdalena blinked twice, puzzled, but got no answer from either brother.

"So how are we going to do this?" Dean asked. "How are we going to get Adam out without letting the other two loose? How do we even open the Cage in the first place?"

"I think we'll need to speak with Death again." Sam admitted. "He can get Adam out."

"Not without a price. He wouldn't let me get both of you back." Dean said. That choice still pained him. There were times when he couldn't help but wonder… what if he'd fought harder, demanded both without backing down, would Death have given in? He didn't know Adam, didn't grow up loving him and protecting him, but he was family in the end and besides the guy was just a kid, really. No ties to hunting or the supernatural other than the blood of his father.

It was one of the many things that kept Dean awake at night… or drinking.

"I can do it." Magdalena piped up.

Both men stared at her with no small measure of incredulity.

"Have you ever done that before?" Sam asked.

"I did resurrect someone once." Magdalena assured him. "Although… I wasn't able to recover their memories and it took some traumatic events to get them back." She looked furtively over at Dean, who was staring into space thoughtfully and didn't see her guilty face.

"In any case," Magdalena continued normally, "If an angel can go into the depths of the Pit and save someone, I'm sure I can just slip into the Cage. There aren't any hordes of demons guarding it or anything."

Sam glanced over at his brother, who contemplated the young angel's words seriously. Dean didn't know much about this Magdalena, but Castiel had sent her. He might be angry with Cas at the moment but he trusted the guy. He really did. And when he came back from his little 'excursion', Sam was chatting it up with the angel like she was their kid neighbor from down the street. Finally, while she didn't seem to take a shine to him (but then, he didn't exactly like the look of her, either) she said that she was sworn to protect him, and she seemed quite determined about that. Magdalena struck him as the kind of idjit who would make a promise, whether they liked it or not, and then follow through no matter the risk to themselves.

"Are you sure that you can get in and get out without dragging two extra hitchhikers with you?" Dean asked.

Magdalena hesitated, her face wavering like ripples in the mud before hardening, setting into determination. "Yes. Yes I can."

"Is there anything that you need?" Sam asked.

"My wings would be nice, but no, thank you." Magdalena replied. "Um… I will need a bed for Christine to lie down on for when I leave."

"Wait – who?" Dean did _not_ need more company.

"My vessel." Magdalena explained. "It will be nice for her to have control of her body again, if only for a few hours."

Hoo boy. This girl was something else.

::::::::::::::::::::::::

The young man was healthy, tall and a little overly muscular, with long blonde hair and a scruffy beard. He stood before a table filled with elders. Legba, still shrouded in shadow, stood behind the elders. One of them, the man who had been pacing earlier, spoke first.

"Are you certain about this, my son? Because if you're wrong…"

The young man overrode him. "No, I'm certain. Roman must have had a back-up plan."

"A back-up plan that consists of…?" Another elder, the man who had been tapping his fingers previously, spoke with a condescending air.

"Their little take-over kind of crumbled with Roman's death,"

"As we hoped it would." The smooth voice of Legba cut in.

"And none of them are really cut out for the same kind of chess game he played – which he must have known, because he left instructions for a different kind of takeover."

Legba made a scathing noise. "Roman was the only one with anything resembling brains, and even he made the mistake of planning too far ahead."

"The point is," The young man said firmly, determined to finish. "That he's set everything in motion for a full-on assault."

"Excuse me?" A wizened man with copper skin and a shaved head inquired, his shock speaking for all.

The young man nodded. "Yes. The Leviathans are going to attack Heaven, just as we are. And what's more, they seem to know what we're up to – well, they don't know we're behind it, but they know what the demons are up to – and they're planning to wipe them out as well. No closing the Gates here; just total annihilation."

"Which will never do if we want those cloud-hopping prissies to experience the decades of loneliness and humiliation that we did." Legba added. It was uncertain if he was being sarcastic or not.

"The Leviathans are a real threat to us – both to us personally and the damage they can deal to the demons. Our army could be decimated." The young man argued.

"Gentlemen! There's no reason to panic." Legba consoled them. "This is merely a change of plans. There is no reason why we cannot turn this into an advantage."

"Oh? And how so?" The long-bearded elder demanded.

Again, everyone could sense Legba's quietly gleeful smile. "The angels know nothing of this."

::::::::::::::::::::::::

Dean had seen freaky things in his life. He'd seen crazy things, scary things, stupid things, and downright weird shit. But there was something unsettling about watching Magdalena leave Christine Tiberias's body. It was like watching one of those old films where the demon or ghost took possession of the unsuspecting (usually female and nubile) human, only in reverse. The girl's entire body seized up for the barest moment, her eyes glassy and glowing with Grace, before relaxing completely, sagging onto the bed as if every bone in her body had melted. There was a moment of silence as the brothers stared at the limp body on the bed. Then came a frantic inhale, her body nearly lifting off the bed, and they were staring at Christine.

The teenager blinked at them curiously, and they stared back.

"Hi." She said tentatively. It was the voice they heard Magdalena use, only it was shyer and unsure. "I'm Christine."

"Sam." The taller Winchester stepped forward, offering his hand. Christine took it, using it to haul herself up, and smiled politely.

"Thanks. And you're… Dean then, right?" She inquired, looking over at him.

"Yup. That's me." Dean shifted his stance a little, glancing over at his brother.

"So, Christine." Sam said, taking charge. "Anything you want to do while we're waiting?"

Christine thought for a moment, then shrugged.

"You ever learn to drive?" Sam offered.

"No. I got sick before I had the chance." Christine replied.

Dean remembered then – Christine had leukemia when Magdalena took over.

"Why don't we take the Impala out for a spin, then. Dean?" Sam looked over at him, asking for permission.

"Yeah, sure." Dean shrugged. "Knock yourselves out."

As they headed out the door, he turned. "Not literally! You get one scratch on my Baby…"

Sam pointedly ignored him as he led Christine out the door.

Dean collapsed against the bed, his breath whooshing out like someone had punched him in the gut. This was stupid. He was being stupid. He just had to man up and do this.

_Stop being a girl, Winchester._ His inner voice sounded rather like his father, although he doubted that John would encourage his son in any 'homo feelings'. In fact, he was one hundred percent certain that John wouldn't. No matter how tough you were or how good of a hunter, in John's eyes being gay made you a girl, and being a man was the second most important lesson John had ever pounded into Dean. The first, of course, being take care of Sammy.

Well, screw John. Dean had never shied away from a fight or a challenge yet, and he wasn't going to start today. Whatever Cas and he had at the moment, they needed to figure it out, before what was left of Dean's heart shriveled and died.

It took a conscious effort to stop his hands from shaking as he put them together and bowed his head.

"Cas?" He whispered. Why was he whispering? He cleared his throat. "Castiel, wherever thou art, get thy feathery ass here pronto."

There was no answer. No flutter of wings, no bending of light or sucking of air into a concentrated point in front of him. Not even an echo of sound in his thoughts.

So somebody was being stubborn. It occurred to Dean that maybe Cas was a little scared, too.

"It's okay, Cas." He said, doing his best to make sure his voice wasn't trembling. "I just want to…" What? Talk? Confess? Make an official statement?

For another moment silence reigned, and then a voice – Cas's voice – pierced his thoughts with a painful clarity.

_Dean!_

And then it was gone, like someone had shut off the radio, and not even a hint of static could be heard. Dean bolted up off the bed, looking around, unsure of what to do or even what he wanted, just knowing that he had to move, do something, anything, to help.

Dean had heard Cas when he was angry, when he was tired, or cranky, sad or downtrodden, happy or content, confused or perplexed. He'd heard the guy in pain before, too, but he had never heard Cas gripped with such boundless agony, or filled with such despair.

Castiel was in trouble. He was hurt, badly, or being hurt – maybe even tortured. Crowley? Was that guy behind this? Or other angels?

He had no idea how, but someway they were finding Cas. The guy was in deep trouble of some kind, and whatever it was Dena was going to take care of it. Nobody messed with his angel and got away with it. No fucking way.

But first things first – when Magdalena got back, she had some explaining to do.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

_It was so dark here. Not even the fires that gave the rest of Hell an eerie glow could penetrate this clinging black. The bottom of the Pit was empty, no demons or damned, save for the Cage._

_She drew closer, shuddering involuntarily. She could sense the pure evil of her former brother, but the anger and confliction of her people's former leader as well. They battled, constantly trying to destroy one another, but filled to overflowing with regret and sadness for the other. The other two ignored the single soul that she could see fluttering faintly, hovering as far away as he could get from the warring brothers. It was amazing that he had lasted so long and not simply given up, letting one or the other consume him. Her Grace pulsed at the thought of his pain. Time had no purpose here, in the greatest depths of Hell. Although it was only a few years on Earth, to this boy it had been an eternity._

_With great regret she waited until the cycle was through. Every so often the fighting would cease and the angel and devil would collapse into a state of almost-sleep – usually just as one of them was about to gain the advantage over the other. It reminded her of an Arthurian legend that Gabriel had recounted to her, of the white dragon and the red dragon that fought in the underground lake, shaking the foundations of the castle so that no work could be done. Whose castle was it to be? Uther Pendragon's? She could not quite remember._

_A new form of silence settled over the Cage as Michael and Lucifer stopped fighting. It had been silent before, but this was different. It was the silence of an uneasy peace._

_Seizing her chance, she crept forward and slipped some of her Grace inside. It would require the blood of both demon and angel – or the powers of Death – to unlock the Cage properly, but even though the Cage was made up entirely of binding spells to keep the occupants inside, there were cracks. There always were. And she wasn't inside trying to get out; she was outside trying to get in._

_She tentatively reached out and touched the fragile soul. It started, shrinking away warily, but it didn't completely flip its lid. She sent calming, soothing thoughts through her Grace, pulses of reassurance and comfort. She carefully grasped the soul and took it into herself, slipping it back out of the Cage and rejoining it with herself._

_With the soul nestled safely within her – it would be cradled in her arms if she were in a vessel – she fled as fast as she could without wings back out of the Pit. Thank whoever responsible that the demons were all busying themselves with some massive project and security was low._

_Just as she exited the Gates, she caught a glimpse of a familiar face. Hadn't she seen that one before? He wasn't a demon, although his true face was quite similar to the hideous demon visage. Where had she seen him?_

_Banishing such thoughts for a time when she wasn't fleeing with a stolen soul, she beat a fast retreat to the Ether._

**I made a deal with Crowley that I'd get a bunch of reviews in exchange for my soul so make the trip to Hell worth it by reviewing, please! Or, you know, don't review so that I don't go to Hell. Either one is good with me.**


	4. Chapter 4

**This is the part that got mysteriously deleted from my writing and had to be rewritten in the utmost haste at a quarter to midnight. So if it sucks… well, you know why.**

_The Ether was an undefined in-between space, a sort of halfway house that existed between each plane of existence. It was the place that humans described when they had near-death experiences. It gave impressions and glimpses, and could be molded with the power of the mind to fit whatever your sense of the afterlife was. It wasn't used much, and nothing naturally dwelt in it. It was… well, the platform at King's Cross, to borrow an analogy used by one of Christine's favorite authors. This was where you waited to board the train to go onward._

_It wasn't really used by angels much, unless they were resurrecting someone. Magdalena had used it once before, and created the same place that she'd used last time – a peaceful beach on a tropical island, virgin and untouched by the hand of man or even animals. This was at the beginning of time, the first attempt by her Father to create Earth. He'd added the animal life later but first, He had started with plants._

_At least, that was what Castiel had told her. She hadn't been created yet._

_Magdalena kept the soul carefully inside her and began to scoop up sand. She didn't know the methods that other angels used but she like the idea of creating man from the earth. She didn't have the willpower to create a complete, living creature in her mind and have it materialize in front of her, like her Father. She needed to work with her hands._

_She molded and melted, pinched, rolled and kneaded, sculpting until she had the shape she wanted. She chipped and carved away the various little details to complete the body, scooping out the eyes and pinching the corners of the mouth. She attached the ears, stretched out the fingers a little, and added the correct amount of hair. When she was finally satisfied, she let it harden and bake in the sun she had created._

_At last, the body was ready. Magdalena bent over, poised above him, and hovered her mouth just over his. She opened her mouth and breathed, the soul passing from her to him. The chest expanded and the young man opened his eyes._

"_Who are you?" Magdalena asked, praying that this time she'd get the answer she wanted. Last time, the person had blinked up at her in confusion and replied that he didn't know._

_But this time, she got the right reply._

"_Adam Milligan."_

_Magdalena smiled. "Good. That's… good. Adam Milligan, come with me."_

_She hauled him to his feet and wrapped him in her arms, and they left the Ether to return to Earth, the island that she'd created vanishing as they did so, banished with a thought. Adam would never remember what happened between his time in the Cage and awakening on Earth, for that was the way of things. But he remembered everything else, and that was what mattered._

:::::::::::::::::::::::

They were all gathered in the bedroom, Sam and Christine watching Dean pace feverishly.

"There's something wrong and he's in pain. I don't see what's complicated about this!" He growled.

"Did he say anything? Any clues or calls for help?" Sam asked.

"No!" Dean barked. "I told you! All that he said was my name!"

"Then who says he was in pain?" Christine quipped.

Dean leveled a glare at her before resuming his pacing. "Look, I know we don't really have a plan, but as soon as Magdalena gets back–"

The air around the bed rippled, and the body of Adam Milligan suddenly materialized on top of it, dropping onto the mattress with a thump.

"Why are we doing this in my bedroom?" Dean suddenly realized.

Adam opened his eyes slowly, blinking. He hadn't aged a day since he'd been trapped in the Cage, but there was an empty, dark look in his eyes that Dean recognized. The kid had been through a lot, and it hadn't left him when he'd left the Cage.

"You okay?" Sam asked, approaching the bed cautiously. Dean stood with his arms folded. He knew that there was no way that Adam could know that he'd gotten the bad end of Dean's 'Sophie's Choice', but Dean still felt guilty.

"I guess I'm okay." Adam sat up a little, his eyes running over his body. "How'd I get out?"

"You were yanked from Perdition." The words sounded ashy and bitter in Dean's mouth.

Adam's eyes roamed the room, alighting finally upon Christine. His eyes flickered. Dean knew that look. Christine was far from ugly, and Adam was in his prime. Christine gave him a reassuring smile in return.

"Who're you?" Adam asked.

Christine stiffened, her eyes widening and mouth dropping open. She went limp and fell, Sam barely catching her before she hit the floor. After a moment of tense silence her eyes opened, glowing briefly with Grace before settling into their natural color.

"Magdalena?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"Yes. Thank you, Sam." Magdalena stood up, surveying her vessel. "I see that you didn't get Christine into too many scrapes while I was gone."

"That had better have been a joke." Dean growled. Magdalena gave him a look that would have melted a block of ice.

"You check on the kid here. I'm getting a beer." Dean stalked out of the room. He still planned on interrogating the shit out of Magdalena, but first he needed a bottle of the good stuff. Seeing Adam made him feel a little sick. The poor guy was only one of the many mistakes Dean had made in his life, a minor footnote in a life of regrets, and it really wasn't fair to the kid that he was representing Dean's failings. But Dean was the kind of guy who wore his guilt like his jacket, and it wasn't leaving him any time soon.

He opened the fridge and pulled out a cold one. He half-expected it to be diet soda or something as soon as he popped the cap, but hopefully Magdalena was too distracted with checking on Adam to protect his liver.

As he closed the door, he realized that he wasn't alone. Someone was standing just to his left, partially hidden in shadow. Dean turned and was met with the brightest pair of blue eyes he'd ever seen.

"Cas?" He breathed.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

"His vitals are all normal, and his memory is intact." Magdalena breathed a sigh of relief.

"Great job." Sam congratulated her.

"Wait – aren't you the girl who…" Adam appeared hopelessly confused.

"That was my vessel you saw – Christine." Magdalena explained. "I am Magdalena, an angel."

Adam could be forgiven for how he started. The guy's experience with angels had not been the best.

"It's okay." Magdalena said hurriedly. "I'm here to protect Dean Winchester and help you as much as I can. I promise."

Adam still eyed her warily.

"Maybe you could have him talk with Christine?" Sam suggested. "She could vouch for you."

"That would work." Magdalena looked over at Adam. "If you're okay with that, I mean."

"Sure." Adam nodded.

"Right." Sam gave Magdalena a _go easy_ look. "I'll just–"

Magdalena suddenly stiffed, her whole body going rigid. Her head whipped around, her eyes wide and fearful.

"No." She whispered.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

"Cas?" Dean asked again. It was Castiel, all right, no mistaking it. But the angel was looking at him with an expression that Dean had never seen before. His eyes were unusually cold and blazing, his face hard and set. There was no warmth, no trace of the Cas that Dean knew. Even when they'd first met, the angel hadn't been this way.

"Cas, is everything okay?" Dean took a step towards the angel. As if in response, Cas moved towards Dean, his expression still frozen in that cold mask.

"No!"

Someone – or something, you never knew with the Winchesters – barreled into Dean, knocking him flat and sending both of them sprawling. The person who'd tackled him was back up in a flash, and Dean could see it was Magdalena.

"Magdalena, what the hell?" Dean tried to get up to talk to Cas again, but Magdalena blocked him.

"He's not your Cas anymore, Dean!" She insisted, eyeing Castiel warily.

"What are you doing?" Cas snarled.

Dean stared. Cas had just… _snarled_. Cas didn't do that. He had never done that, either, that twisted-up face thing, that expression of thwarted anger…

"I'm fulfilling my promise." Magdalena replied, her voice trembling. "Don't do this, Castiel."

"Stand aside." Cas ordered.

"No." Magdalena breathed.

Castiel's angel blade appeared in his hand. "You are going against the will of Heaven, Little One."

"And you are betraying yourself." Magdalena replied.

"He must die!" Castiel roared.

Dean was in utter shock.

"No." Magdalena was stubborn, Dean had to give her that. "I made a promise and I'm not breaking it. You wouldn't want me to."

"Then I have no choice." Castiel replied. He lunged for her, his blade flashing. Magdalena brought her arm up, a blade materializing in her hand as well – this one longer and more powerful than Castiel's.

Dean had seen that blade before. Now where had…

"Where did you get that?" Castiel's face contorted again.

"Where do you think?" Magdalena shot back defiantly.

Castiel lunged again, and the two began to battle in earnest. It was clear that while Magdalena held the superior weapon, she had no training to back it up. Her moves were sloppy and desperate, and she often overcompensated. Yet somehow, possibly through sheer determination, she kept the stronger angel at bay.

"Get out of here, Dean!" She shouted. "Get out now!"

Castiel ducked under her swipe and delivered a blow that sent Magdalena careening into the opposite wall. The concrete cracked slightly but held as the young angel slid to the floor. Castiel turned and approached Dean, who scrambled to his feet.

Whoever this was, it was not his Cas. The unique, fragile something that made Castiel, well, _Castiel_, that set him apart and put him on a journey to become something more than just a soldier… it was gone. Wiped away, or at least hidden far beyond anyone's reach. Dean realized where he'd seen the look in the Seraph's eyes before. It was in Michael, in Raphael, in Zachariah, in Uriel… in fact, it was in every angel other than Anna and Castiel. It was contempt.

Dean couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't _breathe_. He felt like he'd been standing on a carpet that had just been whipped out from under him.

Then it was Castiel's turn to get knocked to the floor by Magdalena as she tackled him, wrestling him to the ground. Caught off guard, Castiel fumbled, his blade knocked out of his hands as they tussled. Magdalena ended up on top, each knee jammed onto his arms, stopping him from reaching up and grabbing her. Her left hand was on his sternum, holding him down with all the Grace that she could muster. Dean could see that it was taking quite an effort. She raised the blade high, pointing it straight at Castiel's throat.

And then, to Dean's surprise, Magdalena began to cry.

"You idiot." She sobbed. "You stupid, self-sacrificing idiot. You knew they were going to do this! You knew they'd ask this of you, this final test and you still made me promise! You made me swear on everything!"

Magdalena was screaming by now, tears running down her face with abandon. "And you went through with it, because you knew that I'd do it. I do it no matter how much it hurt. Stupid… stupid…" She couldn't seem to find the words anymore, but it might not have mattered because by that point she was crying so hard that she was hiccupping. Then she drew herself up, her eyes flashing, and raised the blade even higher.

"I love you, brother." Magdalena whispered.

"No!" Dean shouted just as she drove the point through Castiel's neck.

Dean had seen Castiel die a couple different ways, but he'd never seen him die so… ordinarily. It was like every other angel, leaving behind nothing but the charred outline of wings.

Magdalena dropped her blade like it had burned her. Dean turned on her, feeling his eyes begin to burn.

"What the hell was that?" He shouted. "Why did you do that? How could you–"

"Don't you dare." Magdalena stood up, striding over to him.

"Don't I dare what?" Dean replied. "You just fucking _killed_–"

Magdalena slapped him with all the power of angelic Grace. Dean felt his spine crack and he stumbled backwards, the room spinning around him.

"I know full well what I did, you bastard." Magdalena shouted. "I just killed my brother for you! For _you_! Because the idiot was so attached to you that he gave up his own life to save you! The only person who ever loved me, who ever stood by me, just forced me to kill him so that you could live."

She spun around on her heel and ran out of the room. Dean heard the front door slam a moment later.

He couldn't bear to look at the imprint on the kitchen floor. He got out, not even realizing what he was doing until he was in the Impala and on the open road.

He didn't know how far he drove or how much time passed. He simply waited for the tears and screams and beating on the steering wheel to stop and he could actually breathe without a thousand knives stabbing him before turning around and heading back.

Magdalena still hadn't returned when he got back, which was all for the best. Sam tried asking him a few questions, wanting an explanation for all the commotion, but Dean didn't answer him. He went right to his room, only bothering to kick off his shoes before collapsing into bed.

His mind decided to give him a real treat that night. By that he meant his subconscious was torturing him about as badly as Alistair had in Hell. Every tilt of Cas's head, every _I don't get that reference_, every touch or friendly gesture, was presented to him.

And after each one, he'd see Cas die. Obliterated by Lucifer, stumbling into a lake… it didn't matter how. What mattered was that after every snatch of good, he got to see Cas's death, over and over and over again.

About two thirty a.m. he got up to make a mad dash for the bathroom, puking his guts up in the toilet before blacking out against the cold tiles.

His sleep was mercifully blank after that.

::::::::::::::::::::::::

The silence was even more unnerving than the screams.

"I did it."

He didn't reply at first, merely continuing with his pruning.

"I did it, Joshua. I killed him."

"As you knew you'd have to."

Knowing and doing were two different things, but she didn't say that.

"You can get him back, you know."

She snorted. "You mean like last time, when he was an empty shell, lost and confused? That's no kind of life."

"He got his memories back, didn't he?"

"Sure, after about a year."

"No thanks to me."

"You brought back his body. Dean Winchester brought back his mind."

"What are you saying?"

The gardener put down his shears and picked up a shovel.

"Take the Righteous Man to Purgatory, Little One. It's time for Dean to raise Castiel from Perdition."

**I hope that you all didn't spend too much time confused! I'm really sorry about that glitch and I'll be extra careful in the future. Computers and I are not the best of friends. In the meantime, thanks for putting up with me.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Parts of the next few chapters were inspired by the amazing story Lightborn by Kenu on Deviantart. It's far better than anything I could hope to write (or draw, for that matter) and I highly recommend you read it. The link is: kenu. deviantart gallery/37647591**

**(Remove the spaces for the link to work.)**

**Other parts were inspired by – you guessed it – flutiebear on tumblr.**

"We're going _where_?"

"Back to Purgatory, yes." Magdalena gritted her teeth. "I like this even less than you do, but it's our only chance."

"For what?" Dean insisted angrily. "You still haven't told me what the hell's going on here."

"Could one of you two please tell me what this is all about?" Sam demanded. "There's a fight downstairs that I miss, then you both vanish for hours, and now Magdalena's back and saying you two need to go to Purgatory! And did I mention the glares you two are giving each other?"

Dean slammed his hand on the table. "Why are we going to Purgatory?" He demanded.

"I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore!" Magdalena's voice changed slightly in pitch as she spoke. She immediately clapped her hands over her mouth, looking horrified.

"What?" Dean blinked, surprised.

"It's a quote." Adam explained. "She quoted the film _Network_."

"That wasn't me!" Magdalena protested. "That was Christine!"

"Your vessel?" Sam frowned. "She just spoke?"

"I do not shove her into a pocket of her mind the way most angels do." Magdalena protested stubbornly. "It's not polite."

"Tell Christine I appreciate the quote." Adam grinned.

Both Winchester brothers and Magdalena gave him pointedly blank looks.

"Answers, Magdalena. Now." Dean growled.

Magdalena sighed, burying her face in her hands. She made a noise that sounded extremely close to a sob, and her shoulders shook. She raised her head slowly, bringing her hands down and clasping them together in front of her.

"We need to go to Purgatory to resurrect Castiel."

Everyone stared at her. Dean's face was chiseled stone, his green eyes glowing with rage. How dare she present this to him? Was she mocking him?

"Castiel can't be resurrected. He doesn't have a soul." Sam stated. Dean slammed his eyes shut, feeling like a knife in his ribs had been twisted.

"Then how did he come back before?" Magdalena demanded.

"I… he…" Sam gave up with a shrug.

"How?" Dean was surprised his voice still worked.

"He has a soul." Magdalena replied.

Sam openly gawked at her, but Dean was still frozen, his jaw clenching the only sign that he'd heard her.

"How is that possible?" Sam asked. "You were the only angel created with a soul, you said so yourself."

Magdalena looked down at her hands. "Have you heard of Eros?"

"The Greek version of Cupid?" Sam asked.

Magdalena shook her head. "No. The story was twisted over time to turn him into a god but he was an angel. A part of Raphael's garrison, in fact."

"So?" Dean was in a snarky mood, to say the least.

"He was assigned to save a young woman by the name of Psyche." Magdalena spoke very quietly, as if she were sharing a great secret. "She was condemned as a sacrifice to the gods. Eros not only rescued her, he… well, he fell in love with her. He visited her, all the time. I don't know the details, I only heard everything secondhand from Gabriel. It couldn't last, of course, he was neglecting his duties and his secret was discovered. Raphael hauled him before our Father, and we all expected the worst.

"But something had… happened. I don't know – your human language is so inadequate… for lack of a better word, he had _grown_ a soul."

"How?" Sam asked. Dean thought he might kick the guy if he said that word one more time.

Magdalena twiddled her fingers, lacing and unlacing them like they would give up the secrets of the universe if she stared at them long enough. "It was his love for Psyche that did it. Not just for her, but she started it. Through her he started to love humanity, and Earth, and he… he had a will of his own. He was free, to think and feel and do what he wanted, what he believed, not what he was told.

"We'd never seen anything like it. Heaven was in an uproar. But our Father… he gave Eros a choice. He said that He was proud of Eros, but he couldn't remain an angel while having a soul and free will. So He… He said that Eros could either relinquish those and stay a member of the Host, or he could Fall and become human."

"And what did he do?" Sam asked.

"What do you think?" Magdalena looked up at him, her smile small and bittersweet. "He loved his right to choose, his right to be who he wanted. And he loved Psyche. So…" She took in a shuddering breath. "He Fell. But our Father was kind. Eros did not forget who he was or have to be born in a human manner. He merely used up his Grace and gradually became human. His ties to Heaven were cut, but…" Magdalena's smile grew and became more genuine. "Gabriel told me that he had never seen a happier angel."

"And Cas?" The words sounded harsh and grating in Dean's mouth. "What did he think of all this?"

"He never said." Magdalena replied. "But I think… I think that he thought about Eros quite a lot the past few years."

"So what are you saying? Castiel met a girl?" Sam was only half-joking.

Magdalena blinked in confusion. "He met Dean." She explained, as if Sam had asked what two plus two was.

"Okay." Dean cut in. This was getting far too close to a sharing feelings session for his liking. "So Cas, to use your term, grew a soul. That means he can be resurrected, and you, being an angel, can do it. But why is he in Purgatory?"

Magdalena shrugged. "Our Father is annoyingly mysterious that way." She sighed. "But we must hurry. If Castiel does not return soon, the Host will become suspicious."

"You still haven't explained that." Dean reminded her, his voice dark and thick.

"I will." Magdalena promised. "But we must get to Castiel first."

Dean looked over at Sam and Adam, who had sat silently through the entire exchange and looked rather out of his element.

"I guess it's decided then." Dean announced.

"Guess so." Sam nodded brusquely.

Dean squared his shoulders and suddenly found himself wishing Benny could join them. At least he'd have a battle-worthy ally with him instead of Miss Whack-A-Mole with her angel blade.

It was only after the two of them had left that Adam spoke up. He sounded as if he were just working out a complex mathematical equation.

"Dean and this Castiel guy…" He looked up at Sam. "They're, what, an item?"

"If they aren't by the time this is over, I am trapping them in a circle of burning holy oil until they work their overcomplicated shit out." Sam grumbled. He gave Adam a sideways glance. "You want to learn how to draw sigils?"

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

Everything looked exactly the same to Dean, just as it had before. Each tree was like the last, every patch of ground at once moist and hard, every color drained and tinted with a depressing gray. Magdalena, on the other hand, seemed to know exactly where she was going despite the lack of variation in scenery.

Normally, Dean would have opted for the strong-and-silent drill, but so much of Magdalena seemed intertwined with Cas – parts of Cas that he didn't know, gaps that he felt he _needed_ to know – that he felt the need to know.

Besides, it wasn't like there was much else to occupy their time while hacking through this annoying prickly underbrush.

"So." Dean finally said. "You and Cas. What's the deal?"

"He's my brother." Magdalena said.

"I got that, thanks. Aren't you all siblings, kind of?" Dean asked.

Magdalena shrugged. "He's the only one I consider to be truly family. The others consider me as less than they are."

"So he'd, what, stop by and say hi to you?"

"Something like that."

:::::::::::::::::::::::

_The first time is when her home is destroyed._

_There is something coming, something terrible. She can feel it. She glimpses something that looks like fire, and hears a roaring that shakes her to her core. There is the clash of sword against sword, screams and cries. She curls up against a tree, her eyes shut tight, wishing she could shut out the noises as well. This is where young angels are created and grow up, playing in peace until they are full-grown and can join the Host proper. This is supposed to be a safe place._

_Not anymore._

_She huddles in the garden; fear making every tip of her body tremble, hoping the darkness will hide her._

_Gabriel manages to find her anyway._

"_Come with me!" He is in his battle form, the armor glinting in the unholy light of demon fire. His golden wings are spread out, quivering as the tiny muscles jump and twitch. They glow in a way that would put the golden thrones of men to shame, burning with color. Their Father gave them all wings, each a different color, each the true representation of that shade or tint or tone._

_She lets him scoop her up without protest. Gabriel has always been nice to her, entertaining her. She knows he will not hurt her._

"_Don't look." He warns her as she wraps herself around him. She peeks over his shoulder anyway._

_She is rewarded by seeing Lucifer destroy her home. Lucifer, the favorite; Lucifer, who was so kind and gentle and funny; Lucifer, who was Michael's beloved brother, the two of them inseparable, making the archangel smile. She cannot believe it. She buries her head into Gabriel's shoulder but she does not cry. Her body shakes, anyway._

"_Where have you been?"_

"_They are nearly at the Gates!"_

_The cries of Gabriel's garrison greet her as he lands._

"_You nearly got yourself killed to save her?"_

"_Can it, Aniel. I don't want to hear it."_

_Gabriel pries her off of him and hands her over to someone else. "Get her somewhere safe."_

"_Yes, sir." The angel's voice is on the gravelly side. She looks up and is met with the sight of two big, beautiful blue wings. She's never seen wings – or anything – this blue. They are deeper than the sky, lighter than the ocean, and as clear as a pure soul._

"_Hello, Little One. I am Castiel." He greets her, his face stern but kind._

"_Magdalena." She replies as politely as she can. Her lower lip trembles. She wants to be back with Gabriel, where it's safe._

_Castiel picks her up, cradling her carefully in his arms. "War is no place for one as young as you. Don't worry – Gabriel will be safe. He is head of his garrison for a reason."_

_She senses pride in his voice. Castiel must enjoy being a soldier in such a prestigious garrison._

_Castiel carries her gently but firmly, holding her close and tight. They are met with no obstacles as they make their way towards wherever they're going, but that might just be because everyone – demon and angel alike – is occupied with the battle raging at the Gates._

_Although she does not know him, she feels safer with Castiel than with Gabriel. There is an earnestness, a sincerity, present in him that is absent in the archangel._

_He leaves her with Joshua. The Garden is near the center of Heaven; if Lucifer can reach the Garden, then he's almost at the Throne and nowhere is safe anymore._

"_Look after her. Her wings are only half-formed." Castiel informs the gardening angel._

_Joshua nods, calm as ever._

_She impulsively hugs Castiel before he leaves. To her surprise, he hugs her back. She knows that if anyone else – Uriel or Hester or even Inias – were ordered to deliver her here they would not return the gesture. She is a runt – a pathetic excuse for an angel, a half-formed mistake._

_But Castiel hugs her back, and in that moment she feels that this is what a family is like._

"_I will return to check up on you." He promises. Then there is a blur of blue feathers and he is gone._

_Joshua shows her how to plant flower bulbs and trim trees, refusing to allow the war to affect him. His serenity passes on to her, and she is able to hold back her fear and doubts._

_But she remembers Castiel, and she prays to their Father that he will be safe._

::::::::::::::::::::::::

"He was a good soldier, huh?"

"The best. He was the first to attack, always on the front lines. He was so brave. He never bragged and always got embarrassed if someone brought it up. Gabriel would tease him shamelessly."

"You and the trickster were close?"

"At first. He would visit me in Heaven even after he'd supposedly vanished. But… but Castiel was always a better angel. Gabriel was the perfect angel when I was little but when I got older I could see his flaws. He didn't ever care if others got hurt. He cared about what was fun, what he wanted. Castiel always cared."

"For you?"

"For everyone. He cared about you before he even knew you, Dean Winchester."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

_There is a second, and third, and fourth time that he is with her. He stops by and checks up on her, as he promised. Even after Gabriel vanishes, Castiel keeps coming._

_She is glad that he visits because he cares for her, not because he is ordered to._

_But that is something she is learning about Castiel. He is a good soldier, a proud one, a loyal one, but he is not blind. He cares, even when he shouldn't. There are the seeds of something different in him. What it is, she doesn't know, and she is just smart enough to know that she is not the one to make those seeds blossom, but she senses them._

_Her brother is destined for great things._

_Gabriel sneaks in here and there. He tells her about the Old Gods, about what he's doing as Loki, about Kali. He tells her about how the North American gods hate the European gods, about how the Eastern gods have this weird philosophy going on, about how the Polynesian gods are the funniest. He tells her about Earth._

_She tells him about the state of Heaven. Gabriel is always saddened, but tells her to keep her chin up. One time, he tells her to rely on Castiel._

"_You look out for him, and he'll look out for you. Don't trust the others. Castiel's a good kid."_

_Eventually, Gabriel stops coming altogether. But Castiel always comes. Before and after every mission, when he has down time, when he's bored, or when there's news – he comes._

_One time, he comes with a mission unlike any other._

_Castiel is going to Hell._

_She is afraid for him – and tells him so. It's the first time she admits that she loves him as family, but not the others. None of the Host except for him._

_Castiel calls her sister, and tells her that he will return._

"_Why are you going?" She asks._

"_To save a soul." He replies._

_She hopes that this soul is worth it._

:::::::::::::::::::::

"Cas… what did he – I mean, when he came out of Hell, was he… I dunno…"

"Different? Scarred?"

Dean looked at her, dying to know but terrified of what the answer would be.

"Castiel has beautiful eyes." Magdalena said. "Jimmy Novak was a handsome man."

Dean frowned at the change in subject. "I suppose…"

"Think of Castiel's eyes. His wings were even bluer than that. Our Father made our wings different colors, pure color, in fact. That's why you can't see them in true form. Your eyes would be blinded by the purity of the color, because they're not corporeal at all. We can make them into feathered wings, make them solid, just as we have a battle form and can go into vessels, but it's not our wings' true form."

Dean still didn't see where this was going. "Okay, great. So Cas could show me the material feathery version of his wings if he wanted, but not the true version."

Magdalena nodded. "I always thought Castiel's wings were the most beautiful, even prettier than mine. They were so blue… but when he returned from Hell, they were black. Blacker than black. Stained by the darkness, the soot of dirty souls."

Dean swallowed, feeling the inevitable guilt settle in.

Magdalena's smile grew. "He loved it. He was so proud. The other angels were jealous, always trying to catch a glimpse of his wings. He was the only angel to enter the Pit and return, and those wings were a reminder of that. They are a mark of pride."

Dean fought against the urge to touch the handprint burned into his shoulder. Even if Cas had offered to heal it, he would have refused. This mark was his, a mark of what he'd been through. It was a reminder of what he'd survived, and a reminder of Cas. He wouldn't trade either of those things.

"Sometimes…" Magdalena's eyes were unfocused, as though she were seeing in between the space in front of her and into something hidden to Dean's human eyes. "Sometimes, I could see the universe in his wings. Stars, planets, galaxies… dark, velvet folds like a curtain, holding shadowy images of Earth and all the planes in between. They were faint, and gone in a flash, but if I stood there long enough I thought I could see it. But it would become too much and I'd shift my vision and I'd lose it." Her smile was rapturous. "It was like a dark prism, casting colors and pictures like ripples of water in the wind. I think… I think Castiel's wings are the most beautiful of all."

Dean could hardly breathe, the half-formed pictures in his head tempting him dangerously. What would it be like, to see that? What would he see in those prism depths? Would Cas even let him look?

"When I saw his wings…" Magdalena looked down at her feet, and then nodded decisively. "I knew that his journey had started."

::::::::::::::::::::::

_It's a long time before he comes back but when he does, she has her answer._

_It was worth it._

_She is so distracted by the look on his face that at first she doesn't notice his wings. But when she does…_

"_Castiel!"_

_She reaches out and touches them, tentatively. The wings that were the definition of blue, as true a color as their Father ever made, are now black. Blacker than ink, than soot, than deep space. They are as black as the pits of Hell into which he descended and emerged. They are the greatest of battle scars, for no matter what form he takes, this will remain._

_She would offer her condolences, maybe hug him, but she sees the pride in his eyes. They are a mark he will carry with dignity. They are proof that he survived the Pit – the first and only angel to do so._

"_Why did you go?"_

"_I told you – to save a soul."_

"_But why? There are plenty of souls in the Pit that don't deserve it."_

_She does not agree with the system that Michael has set up. Castiel might agree with her, but she can't tell. He never says anything one way or another._

"_This one was special."_

_She sits down eagerly. "Tell me about it."_

_After some reluctance, he does._

_He tells her of a man who died to save his brother. A man who resisted the greatest torturer in Hell for thirty years, far longer than anyone has resisted any demon, never mind that master of pain. He tells her of how this man is needed by the Host. He doesn't tell her why. She supposes that they won't let him tell anyone._

_The good soldier, still._

_But there is something about the way that Castiel speaks of this man, his posture, his eyes, the way his wings quiver, that tells her that this man is the key._

_Righteous Man or no, this man is what will take those seeds within Castiel and make them bloom._

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

"He told me all about you – the Righteous Man."

Dean shifted uncomfortably. "What did he tell you?"

Magdalena smiled. "He said that he had saved a soul so pure, he could see it shining even in the depths of the Pit. He said that you resisted Azazel for thirty years, and that you were the strongest man he'd ever seen for doing that. He said that you would be the one to save humanity. He told me small things, little things, like your green eyes and how you love pie and your sarcasm."

The young angel's eyes darkened. "I do not hero worship my brother. I know he's done things that aren't right. He's been through a lot, and I wish I could have helped him as you and your brother have helped one another. But for all he's done, Dean Winchester, I know he would never regret it. He's more, now. I look at him and I see how much he's grown and I envy him that growth, that knowledge. I only wish I could spare him the pain as well.

I suppose… I just want you to understand the power you have over him. He abandoned Heaven for you. He journeyed into Hell for you. When he was filled with souls and almost as great as our Father, he did a lot of things because of you, things that you do not know about. He forced himself to stay in Purgatory because of you.

"You are not the Righteous Man, Dean Winchester. You are _his_ Righteous Man. He'll do anything for you. And I want you to understand that."

::::::::::::::::::::::

_The final time that he visits her, he is weary. He is not supposed to be in Heaven, never mind visiting her. Like Gabriel long ago, he is sneaking in._

_When she hugs him hello, she knows that it is really goodbye._

"_I don't know when I will be back." He explains._

"_This is about the Righteous Man, isn't it?" She asks._

_He says that it isn't, but she can tell that he's lying. They've been siblings for a couple thousand years by now, after all._

"_Stay safe." He reminds her._

_She hugs him one last time. He's seen things, done things that he didn't like or liked when he shouldn't have. He's been things, made deals and done deeds that would make any one of the Host shocked or angry. She can sense this, even though she doesn't know exactly what or when or why. But he is still her brother, her only true sibling in the entire Host, and she loves him. And she knows that no matter what he's done or is about to do, it's because he felt it was best._

"_Take care of yourself." She whispers._

"_I'll try." He replies dryly._

_He's gotten quite the sense of humor since he's started hanging out on Earth. It's subtle and straight-faced, but it's becoming more and more pronounced. (She'll never forget the time she asked him 'what the word' was. He obviously took it as an invitation to troll the shit out of her.)_

_He walks away, trench coat billowing behind him, and she wonders at how despite the fact that she's seen him in battle form and true form, and even in different vessels throughout the years, she has never seen a form that fits him better or feels more true to his nature than the vessel of Jimmy Novak._

:::::::::::::::::::::

Dean would have shot something back at her, but he could read the emotion in her eyes. She wasn't lecturing him. Suddenly, he didn't see an Angel of the Lord in front of him. He saw a girl trying to protect her brother. He saw himself, trying to protect Sammy, or Sam trying to protect him. And he saw a very great, very real fear.

Magdalena was afraid for her brother.

:::::::::::::::::::::

_The last time she sees him, he isn't himself._

_He's not visiting her. He's not reporting. He's ravaging Paradise, consuming as he is consumed, destroying angels left and right._

_At first she doesn't understand and thinks that the Host is attacking him for no reason. She tries to fly to him but is forced back by Inias, of all angels._

"_He'll kill you, too!" The soldier shouts._

_She watches, darting back and forth, hidden in the sidelines, as her brother destroys Heaven. Thousands fall before him, Inias included._

_The others seem by turns angry, shocked and confused, but she is none of those. She is fearful. Castiel is strong, stronger than any other angel. She knows this. He has twice the heart of anyone, and once he's set on a course he will finish it. He went to Hell and back and raised a man from Perdition, rebuilding him atom by atom. He caged Michael and Lucifer and defeated Raphael._

_But she knows that Castiel will come back to himself, somehow. She suspects with the help of the Righteous Man he's told her so much about, but no matter how it is done she knows that Castiel, the Castiel that she loves, will return._

_And when he does, the wrath of the Host will fall upon him, and she knows that no matter how much strength and determination and heart he has, the Host has ten times that in pettiness, ambition, and need for control. And so she is fearful. She fears for her brother and what they will do to him when he is manageable once again._

::::::::::::::::::::

"I can see why you don't like me." Dean remarked, moving to stride ahead of her even though he had no idea where he was going. "A lowly, crass human, corrupting your precious brother." He snorted.

"Castiel is not corrupted." Magdalena replied sternly. "He made mistakes and lost his way at times, but he is not any worse than you are."

"Well I'm pretty bad, so…"

"You certainly both have tendency for extreme self-deprecation." Magdalena observed. Dean turned to look at her, eyebrows raised. "Christine's thought, but I agree." She said dryly.

Dean turned back around again. Magdalena continued to talk to his back.

"And if it's about the intercourse–"

Dean whipped back around. "The what?" He felt extremely uncomfortable, not only because of the subject matter but because the lack of a sense of boundaries, the blunt manner, reminded him of Cas.

"Intercourse. That's what you want, isn't it?" Magdalena asked guilelessly. She seemed entirely unaware of Dean's discomfort.

"Okay, personal boundaries. No reading thoughts." Dean warned her.

"I didn't read them. Castiel mentioned it." Magdalena explained.

Was there a toilet somewhere that he could throw up in? Or maybe a hole that he could crawl into and hide from the sheer humiliation?

Magdalena did a very stilted and exaggerated eye-roll. Dean had a feeling she was trying to copy Sam. "He slept with Rachel, you know. And Meg. He said that she said it was a favor. Taught him stuff. They were just friends. Oh, and they watched a lot of Disney movies."

"Why the hell would Cas tell any of this to you?" Dean demanded. Was it just him or was the temperature rising?

"He had to tell me so that I could tell you. He knew he wasn't going to get another chance." Magdalena shrugged. "He wanted you to know that your feelings were…" She paused, searching for the word. "Reciprocated."

So Cas not only knew of Dean's feelings, but he returned them. Why the fuck hadn't the guy said anything? Had he run out of fear? Had Dean scared him off somehow? Or had Cas just taken their whole 'profound bond' for granted?

"And what happened to Cas? Why'd you have to kill him?" Dean demanded.

Magdalena looked up at the perpetually cloudy sky. "There is a war coming. It has been prophesied. It's not the Apocalypse – it has nothing to do with humans. They'll eventually be caught in the crossfire, I'm sure, but they're not the objective. It's a fight for survival.

"The demons are trying to close the Gates of Heaven, just as you are trying to close the Gates of Hell. And the prophecy states that the angels will be destroyed unless the foretold leader is the one to command them in the battle."

"And let me guess – that leader is Castiel?"

Magdalena nodded. "Precisely. But the Host… they're angry with Castiel. They feel that he is too human and emotional, and that he does not have the best interests of Heaven at heart. They dislike the free will that he has developed.

"Castiel was aware of this. Naomi was promised to be made an archangel if she could manipulate Castiel's guilt over his actions while possessed by Leviathan, but I took care of that."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

_That is the reason they tear out her wings._

_She knew what she was getting into when she set out to break her brother free, but she didn't truly think that the rest of her brethren would be so cruel._

_She underestimated them._

_But it's worth it. It's all worth it. Castiel is her brother, her true brother; the one person she loves and is loved by._

_Castiel rescues her, but not before the damage is done. She is leaking Grace, almost all of it gone, and what little remains is being used to repair the damage to her true form. It will take months for her wings to grow back, if they do at all. He eases the pain as much as he can, apologizing constantly. She tells him that she'd do it again. They're family. That's that family does._

_He understands the situation now, more than she does, and he tells her everything. Subtlety didn't work, and the Host will be resorting to less refined measures to ensure his cooperation. They will hit him where it hurts, and for Castiel that means going after the Righteous Man. He will give himself up for Dean Winchester's sake._

_She begs him not to. She says it's foolhardy, stupid, and downright ridiculous._

_He says it's his decision._

_But he wants the Righteous Man to know – no more secrets, no more things left unsaid or unacknowledged – and tells her everything so that someday, she can tell Dean everything._

_And then he gives himself up, and they take him away. She flees, heading for Earth to fulfill her promise. And she knows that he'll be thinking of the Righteous Man the entire time, until his thoughts are no longer his and they have shattered him to tiny fragments to crush under their feet._

_She knows now that he knew what they would ask of him. To prove his loyalty, he must do the one thing that he would never otherwise agree to. But although he failed to kill Dean Winchester in body, he killed a part of the man all the same. He killed a part of her as well._

_Even if they get Castiel back, she's not sure if she'll ever lay down the burden of guilt._

**In case you couldn't tell, if it's in italics, then it's a flashback. A lot of things – Magdalena's story, Dean and Cas's time in Purgatory – is told in flashbacks, to be prepared for italics. Lots and lots of italics.**


	6. Chapter 6

**The Bible quote, by the way, is from the parable of the Prodigal Son. *rubs hands gleefully* I do so love parallels…**

They walked in silence for a long while. The sky darkened, the Purgatory equivalent of night, but there was still enough dull light to see by. He had never been so grateful for color until he'd spent time in this place. Everything was dull and tinged with the most depressing gray. It was like you could see the life sucked out of things.

Neither of them had said a word since Magdalena delivered Castiel's various confessions. If Cas himself had told Dean all that stuff Dean would have had a few thoughts of his own to voice but he didn't want to say anything to Magdalena. She wasn't Cas, and Dean wasn't going to share his feelings to any proxy, no matter how sympathetic they may or may not be.

Not for the first time, he wished Benny were there. That guy, he could trust – both to have his back and not to ask questions.

::::::::::::::::::::::::

_He's been in Purgatory for a couple of months before he runs into Benny. Or, rather, before Benny finds him. He's real fucking suspicious – after all, this is Purgatory – and the guy's a vampire. Dean trusts vamps about as far as he can throw them, which isn't far._

"_How'd you find me?" He demands, his blade at the guy's throat. To his credit, Benny doesn't show any sign of fear. He replies in that slow, Southern drawl, as calm as if Dean had asked him about the weather._

"_I followed the trail of bodies. Wasn't that hard, considering."_

_This is true. Dean's slaughtered everything that's been stupid enough to come into his line of sight that isn't wearing a trenchcoat._

"_How'd you hear about me?" Dean presses the blade in a little harder, just to emphasis his point – he's not fucking around. Every second spent interrogating this guy is another second spent not finding Cas, and that's a second Dean can't afford to spare. Cas needs him, and he's going to find him, even if he has to decapitate every Chomper in this place._

_Benny gives a chuckle, and Dean wonders what's so damn amusing. "Everyone's heard about you." The vampire tells him. "You're a regular celebrity down here. Notorious, I dare say."_

_He's not sure how he feels about this. On one hand, it's the opposite of what he needs – everyone knowing that he's out there, and what he's after. But on the other hand, maybe they realize what a threat he is and stand back. Maybe the next monster he interrogates will actually tell him where Cas is._

_Because they know something, dammit. He can see it in their eyes, so human and yet so false, so alien and vile, glittering like the eyes of bugs. Bugs that he can crush under his feet. They all know something; they're just not telling. He'll give Dick this – the Levis are loyal. Roman was their God in a way, their capital-L leader, and they aren't saying anything._

"_Why?" He has to know how much everyone knows. "Why am does everyone know me?"_

_Benny shrugs. "When a human – a real, live, blood-pumping soul – comes into Purgatory and starts killing everything in sight, people 'round here take notice." The vampire gives Dean a once-over, sizing him up. "Although, you don't look as crazy as they say."_

"_Try me." Dean's okay with crazy. He's more than okay with it, if it gets him Cas._

"_They also say…" Benny weighs what he's going to say, but once the words are out of his mouth they are as smooth and light as butter. "That you ask them a question before you kill 'em. Just one question."_

"_And what's that?"_

_Benny repeats the words slowly, the ones that Dean has demanded, shouted, begged every monster – sometimes even as he drew the blade across their miserable throat._

"_Where is the angel?"_

::::::::::::::::::::::

In Magdalena's defense, she hadn't pressed him to share anything. She'd delivered her message and was now as quiet as he was, moving ahead of him through the trees and glancing around warily. They hadn't met a single monster, which was unsettling in how unusual it was. In fact, Dean hadn't even heard a bloodcurdling howl or a hair-raising snarl all day.

Now, in his experience, there was only one reason that the Big Bad Wolf stayed away – there was an even Bigger, Badder Wolf lurking nearby. In any other circumstance Dean would like to think that the demon/witch/whatever had heard he was a hunter and had cleared out, but down here in Purgatory he wasn't going to flatter himself. If there was something scaring the monsters away from this area, it wasn't him – and it sure as hell wasn't the angel at his side. In Purgatory angels were nothing short of dinner… although, with her age and size, Magdalena would probably be more of an appetizer.

::::::::::::::::::::::::

_Turns out, Benny has a bit of heft with the other vamps – and there are plenty others – in Purgatory. And Dean has to give it to him, the guy has a magnetism about him. Dean wishes he had the kind of aura, the one that says 'badass' without the person actually having to do anything. They just walk into the room, and you know – you don't mess with this guy._

_While Dean mostly took his wrath out on the Leviathans, he sent a few vampires to an early grave and the rest of the bloodsuckers were getting nervous. With nothing to go one except the fact that Dean was alive (re: not one of them) and the mysterious angel question, they sent Benny to act as ambassador to this new threat and, perhaps, nullify it._

"_In other words, they want you to make me go away." Dean notes as they trudge through another set of gray, lifeless trees._

"_Sure." Benny says, his tone conveying that if that's how Dean wants to look at it, he's not going to argue with it. "But I saw something different."_

"_What's that?" Dean's suspicions are raised._

"_My ticket out of here." Benny gives him that wolfish look of his. It's not a grin, but it reminds Dean of a predator who's just felled a prime target. Triumphant, cautiously jubilant, and a trifle sly. "A while back… feels like years ago, but it could've been longer… I got a piece of information from some people."_

"_What kind of people?" The only kind of creatures Dean's seen around here are vamps and Chompers, and neither are what he would dub 'people'._

"_Not sure. They're not like me or you, and they weren't Levis." Benny has that don't-ask-questions tone, and Dean suspects that these people might have actually scared him a little. Anything that can scare Benny, Dean decides, is something that Dean does not particularly want to run into._

"_They told me that there's a way out of here." Benny confides. "But there's a catch."_

_In Dean's experience, there always is._

"_One, it's deep into Leviathan territory." Benny explains. "Now, I can take down a Chomper or two,"_

_That he can. Dean's seen it, and been impressed._

"_But walking into a nest of 'em? Not the wisest choice. And there's the little matter of the second catch. It's a humans-only portal. Only a living, breathing mortal can get in or out, and I stopped breathing a long time ago."_

"_I don't see how I can help." Dean points out. "I'm human, but I can't give you a piggyback ride."_

_Benny chuckles. "Maybe. But you're here, brother. If we put our minds to it, we'll find a way."_

_And there it is. The price. Dean knew it was coming eventually. Nobody does something for nothing. Benny's been a huge help the past few days… weeks… whatever, but Dean knew there'd be a cost. And now he knows what he has to pay._

_Somehow, he's going to release a vampire from Purgatory. Normally this would give him all kinds of trouble with his conscience, but it's Benny. The guy calls him brother, for Christ's sake. So the thought doesn't bother him as much as it otherwise might. Besides, after all the guy's doing for him, it's almost a fair price to pay._

::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Why is it so quiet?" Dean asked. If there was danger, he wanted to be prepared. Few things were worse then getting hit by something you didn't know was coming.

Magdalena gave him a confused look, blinking. He gave an exasperated sigh. "Look, this is Purgatory. Eve's children, monsters, Leviathan, random freaky shit – and trust me, you can't take a piss without getting it on one of them. So why haven't we run into anything?"

"Because we're in the Empty Ones territory." Magdalena replied.

"Explanation." Dean growled.

Magdalena gestured that they keep moving. "We're close to the center of Purgatory. To the south are where most vampires are, and the Leviathan tend to congregate in the west, but monsters lurk everywhere. Except for here. This is relatively safe territory."

"Who lives here? Who are the Empty Ones?"

Magdalena stopped suddenly, and Dean nearly ran into her. He realized that they were at the edge of a vast clearing. In the center stood a large compound, surrounded by a wall that had to be at least ten feet high.

"This is where they live." Magdalena whispered. She turned to him, the color of her eyes intensifying. "Do as I do, and don't talk unless you have to. Understand?"

Dean nodded. His skin was crawling uncomfortably, and he felt apprehensive.

"And whatever you do, don't act like you know anyone, and don't catch Azrael's attention."

"Azrael? As in, the Angel of Death?"

Magdalena nodded, her mouth a tight line. "He was the first to fall, in battle during the war. Lucifer himself delivered the blow."

Dean looked up at the compound again. Just what were they getting into?

"Be grateful Samuel defected and joined Lucifer – he was a nasty piece of work even as an angel." Magdalena muttered. She moved forward purposefully, but her eyes continued to dart nervously around. That unsettled Dean. She'd been wary the entire trip but only now was she actually on edge.

Dean followed her as they made their way across the clearing, finally reaching the wall.

"Who goes there?"

Two figures stepped forward out of the semi-darkness, almost as if they had materialized at that moment. Dean held in a gasp as he looked at them.

One was slender, with red hair and gentle eyes. He knew that face. He'd fucking _slept_ with her.

"Anna?" He whispered.

"Who are you?" The second figure repeated. Dean could feel his eyes bug out as he realized that the second person was none other than Gabriel. He glanced over at Magdalena, who was staring at the former trickster like Dean imagined Caesar stared at Brutus.

"W-we don't know." Magdalena spoke fearfully, hesitatingly. "We need help, the m-monsters, they're…"

"She's scared to death, Coyote." Anna spoke up. She smiled reassuringly at Magdalena. "I'm Hawthorne. It's okay – you're in a safe place now."

Gabriel – apparently now called Coyote – eyed Dean carefully. Dean did his best to look innocent and bewildered. After a moment of intense staring, Gabriel nodded approvingly.

"Let's get them inside. Nova can take care of them."

Anna – or Hawthorne, whatever – nodded in agreement. "You'll like Nova. He's got a way with new arrivals."

Gabriel banged three times on the massive gate, then paused, then knocked three times again. The gate opened and the two former angels led Dean and Magdalena inside.

::::::::::::::::::::::::

_It's Benny's idea, but Dean agrees with and helps execute it. The lack of guilt he feels scares him a little, but it's all for Cas and that justifies anything he has to do. He'll do far worse (and has, in the bowels of the Pit) if it means that he gets to Cas._

"_You kill them too quickly." Benny explains as he calmly pins down a writhing Leviathan. "They're scared, sure, but not enough. And half the time you're killing 'em as you're asking 'em."_

_This is true._

"_So what do you suggest?" Dean drives the tip of his blade into the ground, leaning on it with his elbow._

"_I know a few things." Benny drawls. He gives the Chomper under his boot a slow grin, and the monster looks absolutely terrified. Dean has to hand it to the guy – Benny knows how to play the evil creature of the night. The fact that Dean knows the guy loves pecan pie, can't stand Taylor Swift and his favorite book is Les Miserables doesn't detract from the chilling grin. In fact, Benny's disarming normalcy and Southern charm make his transformation into Mark Twain's Dracula all the more unsettling._

"_I know a few things too." Dean informs him, yanking his blade up out of the ground and striding over. He eyes the Leviathan critically. He's tried his damndest to ignore or forget them but oh yeah, does he know things._

_You can leave Hell, but it sure doesn't leave you._

_And this time, when he asks his question, he gets an answer._

"_Roman has him."_

::::::::::::::::::::::::

Dean tried not to look around, but it was hard not to. He glimpsed Hester at one point, and that was definitely Rachel (call him insecure but he felt a surge of jealousy) over by a massive rock that stood in the center of the compound. He followed their guides up to a house with a low roof, identical to the two dozen or so other buildings. It appeared to be made of mud, and the roof was thatched. He had to duck his head to get inside but could stand comfortably once he'd crossed the threshold.

Four men were in the room; two of them were standing near a bed, upon which rested the third. The fourth was sitting on the edge of the bed, helping the invalid to drink something.

"Monsters nearly got him – had him treed, in fact, when we found him." One of the men spoke. Dean nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw that the two standing men were Raphael and Balthazar, although he was sure they went by different names now.

The person sitting on the bed removed the cup from the other man's lips, and Dean could see that it was Inias. The poor kid looked pale and sweaty, and Dean saw that he was wearing bandages on his arm and shoulder – bloody bandages.

"We have two more." Anna said apologetically. "They're no worse for wear, though."

The man sitting on the bed stood up, and Dean felt his knees buckle. It was Cas. Cas, alive and well, staring at him like… well, like he'd never seen Dean before.

It hurt. Dean was certain that he'd rather be shot than have Cas look at him like he was a total stranger.

"This is Nova." Anna introduced. "He'll help you adjust to your life here, make sure you're not damaged, and help you choose your names."

Dean couldn't find any words but Magdalena thanked them.

"We'll get out of your way." Raphael or whoever he was said. "C'mon, Wickham."

Balthazar – apparently named Wickham, which Dean would have thought wildly funny under almost any other circumstance – glanced over at Cas. Dean knew that look and fought the urge to step in. The guy was still trying to get into Cas's pants. The fucker. A growl rumbled up in his chest, but he suppressed it. Getting into a fight would only make their situation worse.

The two angels left, and Castiel finished up with Inias before turning his attention back to Dean and Magdalena.

"Thank you, Hawthorne. And Coyote." He nodded.

Hawthorne smiled, first at Castiel, then at Dean and Magdalena, before exiting. Gabriel gave Dean and Magdalena an odd look, like they were a riddle he needed to solve, before following his companion out the door.

And they were alone with Castiel.

"You appear to be uninjured." Castiel observed, walking over to them. "I'm sure your journey was harrowing."

Magdalena searched Castiel's eyes, her gaze hard and unrelenting. If Castiel noticed, he didn't show it, carefully examining her for any cuts or bruises. When he pulled back, both seemed satisfied with their findings.

"I'm sorry." Magdalena said, reaching up and pressing two fingers to Castiel's temple.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

_Of course Dick (Dean thinks the name is so appropriate it's almost poetic) son-of-a-motherless-bitch Roman would have Cas. The dueschbag had been five steps ahead of them the entire time. Of course he would have a backup plan, and of course that plan would involve the surest way to turn Dean Winchester into a rabid dog._

_It takes a while, but they locate him. Benny makes a crack about Zero Dark Thirty – how they're the SEALS and Roman is Bin Laden – but Dean's not laughing. Cas is so close Dean's handprint is tingling, and he's not going to stop until he's got the stupid son of a bitch safe and telling Dean he doesn't get that reference._

_Strangely, there's no sign of Dick Roman as they approach the (dry) riverbed that supposedly marks the beginning of his territory. Dean figured the guy would be out there in a heartbeat, gloating or threatening or something. He knows they're here, the hunter and the vampire, so why is he staying hidden?_

_Cas._

_Cas is there._

_Standing, looking more or less unharmed, no more than ten feet from Dean. He's sporting some scruff and his trenchcoat is dirtier than Dean remembers, but he's there. Safe. And so, so close._

_Dean can't resist. Roman's probably around somewhere, maybe even a shit ton of Levis in tow, but Dean doesn't care. He calls out to the angel staring at him with that endearing mix of objectivity and confusion, strides right up and hugs him. He even nestles his chin in against Cas's shoulder, holding on just a second too long and a little too tightly._

_It hurts when Cas doesn't hug him back, but he pulls back and touches Cas's face. "Nice." He grins, not sure if he's being sarcastic or not. He prefers Cas clean-shaven, yeah, but the beard is kind of hot._

_He can feel Benny's eyes on him, and he just knows the guy is holding back a smirk. So maybe Dean told him a little about Cas during their time ganking monsters. And maybe Benny would get this knowing look in his eyes despite the fact that Dean never, ever said anything that would suggest a relationship. But still, there's no reason for the guy to be chortling behind Dean's back like that._

_Cas's eyes dart to the side, like he's wondering why the hell Dean is flirting with him in front of this random vampire. Oh, yes, introductions. Right._

"_Cas, this is Benny. He helped me find you. Benny, this is…"_

"_The famous Cas." Benny strides forward, thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans. "Guess I can finally put a face to the name."_

_Cas tilts his head to the side (and Dean feels a little like kissing him) and gives Dean a 'what the hell is this guy talking about' look that is, quite frankly, adorable._

_Yeah, Dean's a fucking sap. Sue him._

"_What happened?" Dean asks. There's still no sign of the CEO of the Blob Monsters, and Dean would like to think that no news is good news, but experience has taught him the opposite._

_Cas looks like he can actually breathe again. "You have to get away." He insists. "It's not safe, they're coming for me…"_

"_Yeah, you're a monster magnet." Dean waves it off. Let's make one thing clear – he's not stuck in Purgatory with the monsters. The monsters are stuck in Purgatory with him. Got it?_

"_You don't understand, Dean." Cas responds, urgency and… is that panic in his tone? "She's coming…"_

"_She?" Dean wracks his brain. Lilith? He didn't consider the possibility of demons down her. He really hopes that means he gets to run into Alistair, because that's an opportunity he is not wasting._

_Cas shakes his head, but before he can speak again his eyes widen slightly, staring behind Dean._

"_Looks like we have company, brother." Benny says slowly, like he's trying not to spook a horse. Dean turns, his boot heel making the dirt crunch beneath him as he spins slowly on its axis._

_The words spoken are supposedly holy, but they sound cloying and rank, an apple dripping in poisoned honey and rotten to the core. "For this son of mine was dead, and is alive again; he was lost and is found." She smiles like a serpent, cold and tight-lipped._

_Dean swallows hard. "Hello, Eve."_

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

Dean caught the angel just before he hit the floor.

"A little warning, next time?" He asked, glancing over at the sleeping Inias.

"He'll wake up in a minute." Magdalena warned.

"What is this place?" Dean growled.

"We always thought that when an angel died… it was like a star going out. Nothing was left. But after Castiel died… Joshua sent me here. They're okay but they've lost their memories. Azrael leads them. He knows more than he lets on but everyone else just… they survive. They hut, eat, sleep… and they wait. Why our Father has them here, I don't know. I'm not sure that I want to know. But they aren't alive, not really. And they can't be brought back."

"Because they're soulless." Dean noted. "But Cas has a soul, so you can bring him back."

Magdalena nodded, looking down at her unconscious brother. "The first time I came here… I was overwhelmed. Seeing Gabriel was extremely painful. I had a different vessel then, otherwise he would have recognized me this time. I resurrected Castiel but… but I did it wrong. His memories were gone. I had to find another vessel and watch over him, protect him."

A cold chill ran down Dean's spine. "You were Daphne."

Magdalena smiled apologetically.

Well, that explained a few things; like Daphne's lack of shock at the existence of demons, or her ready acceptance of Castiel's need to go with Dean. And why she'd taken in a man she didn't know and given him a decidedly Jewish/Christian name despite the fact that she was a devout Buddhist.

"I couldn't give him his memories back, Dean. But you can." Magdalena told him earnestly. "Resurrecting him is easy – I just have to get him out of here and give him some of my Grace. Unlike souls in Heaven or Hell, his vessel is intact. Enough Grace will empower his true form."

"But I need to make him remember first." Dean finished.

Magdalena nodded.

"How do I do that?"

Magdalena paused, thinking. "Sometimes, they remember things, little glimpses of who they once were. Castiel… I think it's because he had a soul, but he retained even more of himself. He retained a few basic angelic powers, too."

Dean was going to ask what that meant, when Castiel stirred on the floor. Showtime.

Castiel half-sat up, looking up at them in confusion. "What happened?"

"You're Nova, right?" Dean asked.

Castiel nodded.

"Nova… why… why are you the one that takes care of the new arrivals?"

Castiel's brow creased. "I'm… I can soothe them."

"How?" Dean pressed.

Castiel shook his head. "It's not for me to share."

Dean leveled him with his best _spill the beans_ glare. "Try me."

Castiel sighed. "I have… abilities. I can make people go to sleep or calm them down. I can sometimes… sometimes I can even read their thoughts."

Dean nodded. "Great." He nodded more vigorously. "Then read mine."

Castiel stared up at him in surprise. "You…" His eyes narrowed. "You remember things, don't you?"

"I remember everything." Dean assured him. "I remember my name, where I came from, who I am…"

Castiel stared at him suspiciously.

"C'mon, Cas." Dean insisted. "Just have a look around."

"What did you call me?" Castiel asked, sitting up more.

"I called you by your name." Dean swallowed. "Well, my name for you."

"Then you know me."

Magdalena watched the tense exchange with wide, nervous eyes.

"I do." Dean nodded.

That was the final push that Castiel needed. He stared up into Dean's eyes, and the hunter thought that they hadn't ever looked so blue or so bright. He felt a tentative brush in his thoughts, and had to swallow down his panic before he choked. It was like someone was rooting through the drawers in his bedroom dresser. Castiel was careful and respectful about it, but it was still the scariest thing Dean had ever done.

And then Cas got to the darkest corner of Dean's mind. He opened up the triple-locked trunk where Dean buried all those emotions that he felt he shouldn't, or didn't want, to feel. He could almost hear Castiel's inward gasp when he felt those thoughts and emotions. The angel's eyes widened, and then he collapsed against the floor again. Dean felt Castiel's consciousness retreat from his mind, and felt both immense relief and a sense of loss. Castiel was breathing heavily, staring down and to his right at the bare floorboards, his eyes rimmed red and a look of anguish on his face.

No one spoke for a few minutes. Dean was the one who dared to break the silence.

"Cas?"

Castiel looked up at him, and Dean thought he had never seen the angel look so overwhelmed, or lost, or grieving, or joyful, and especially not all of them at the same time.

"Hello, Dean." He managed to get out.

Magdalena started sobbing with relief. Dean grinned and felt a little like crying himself.

"You son of a bitch." He whispered, hugging Cas so hard he would have knocked the wind out of the angel's lungs had breathing been necessary to him. "You stupid, self-sacrificing son of a bitch."

And this time, Castiel hugged him back.

**After you're finished reviewing this chapter (see how I snuck that in there?) go read Lightborn! Trust me, it's a great read.**


	7. Chapter 7

**This one was only seven pages long. I am quite proud of my brevity.**

"I hate to interrupt the hugfest, but we have to get out of here pronto." Magdalena said urgently.

Dean glared at her. That hug lasted barely five seconds. Okay, maybe ten. That did _not_ count as a freakin' hugfest.

"Magdalena is right. We have to act quickly before Azrael comes to visit the new arrivals." Castiel glanced over at Inias, still asleep on the bed. The pain in his eyes was heartbreaking.

"C'mon." Dean stood up and hauled Cas to his feet. "Let's get moving."

The compound was silent and empty as they exited the building.

"Everyone is asleep except for the guards on the wall." Castiel whispered. "We will have to find a blind spot to get past them."

"Like a security camera?" Magdalena asked.

Dean nodded tightly, his eyes sweeping the area. "I don't…"

A hand grabbed his shoulder and he whirled, stumbling back.

Gabriel was standing there, a finger to his lips. "This way." He whispered.

"Why are you helping us?" Dean asked as Castiel and Magdalena followed their brother without a word of protest.

"I know you." Gabriel replied. "I've seen you somewhere before… before I came here. You're not one of us. You aren't." He nodded towards Magdalena. "Not yet, anyway. But you're similar. Maybe you were one of us once, or I was one of you. I don't know. But you don't belong here. You need to get out."

"Damn straight." Dean grumbled.

Gabriel led them to a small side door in the wall. "This is the only door that's not manned." He explained, opening it for them. "Go, quickly!"

"Thank you." Castiel said earnestly. "Perhaps, someday…"

"C'mon, Cas." Dean took the angel's arm and pulled him through the door, nodding his thanks at Gabriel as he went.

Magdalena hugged Gabriel fiercely, a sob working its way out of her throat. "You don't remember, but you were my first friend." She whispered. "Even when you abandoned Heaven you visited. One time you even…"

"Magdalena!" Castiel called quietly. "Come!"

The young angel gave Gabriel another quick hug before slipping through the door. The trickster closed it behind them with a soft thump that was filled with finality.

"Castiel." Magdalena hurried up. "We need to talk abou–"

"Can we do this after we get out of here?" Dean interrupted.

Magdalena glared openly at him. "Fine. Let's get to the portal."

"But only humans can–" Castiel started to protest.

It was Magdalena's turn to interrupt. "Christine will be in control when I go through, and you can hitch a ride inside of Dean."

"But his vessel…" Dean jerked his head towards Castiel, indicating his human body.

"That vessel is his true form right now." Magdalena explained. "It's the form his soul took upon his death. I'll rebuild Jimmy Novak's body properly when we return to Earth but for now, he can use you as a vessel."

The idea of being Castiel's vessel was a daunting one, and not for the reasons Dean had hesitated to be Michael's vessel. Castiel would be privy to all of Dean's thoughts, not just the few he'd seen back at the compound. And they'd be together – literally. It would be… well, he didn't like using the word but he couldn't find another that fit the situation… it'd be intimate. Intimacy and Dean Winchester weren't exactly comfortable with each other.

He voiced none of his hesitations, just keeping up a steady jog as he followed Castiel and Magdalena through the maze of trees to the portal.

It struck him that Benny must have learned of it from the Empty Ones, perhaps Azrael himself. This was in their territory, after all. What else went on here, in this strange in-between plane? Were there other secrets to be exposed?

Right now, Dean didn't much care. He just wanted to get back home with Cas relatively unharmed.

The portal looked exactly the same as when he'd last gone through it. Magdalena closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her whole face looked a little different. It wasn't anything physical, really; it was more in how she carried herself, the set of her jaw and the look in her eyes. While she looked exactly the same, Dean knew that he was looking at a different person.

"Magdalena says to follow your lead." Christine said. "Apparently you've done this before." The teen looked up at the portal uneasily.

Dean looked over at Cas, who was staring at him. He swallowed hard, trying to dispel the lump in his throat. "You ready?"

Castiel nodded. "Is this all right?"

"If it gets you out, then it's all right." Dean promised.

It was a lot smoother than he anticipated. One moment he was, well, alone in his head, and the next he wasn't. He could sense another presence within him, like he was in a dark room where he couldn't see but could feel things nonetheless. It was… strange, yeah, really strange, but it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

_That is because you are still in control._ Castiel's voice echoed in his head, deep and gravelly like pebble stones rubbing together.

Yeah. He could imagine it would be a helluva lot different if the angel – whatever angel it may be – were in charge.

He couldn't physically feel Cas but he could sense him, could reach out with his soul and touch him. Steeling himself, he reached out and gripped tight, feeling the warm Grace pulsating within him. Was this was it was like for Cas, holding onto Dean's dark, battered soul as he rose from the Pit? He didn't dare ask.

_No letting go this time._ Dean warned him.

_Yes, Dean._

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

"That was quicker than I thought." Sam remarked.

"Magdalena knew where she was going." Christine shrugged.

Adam came in from the kitchen, and Christine smiled at him. "You're… Adam, right? The half-brother?"

"Yeah." Adam nodded. Christine's smile grew.

"Where's Castiel?" Sam asked.

"He's here." Dean replied. "We just haven't, uh…"

"Magdalena has to rebuild his body. She's taken him into the Ether." Christine explained.

"The what?"

Christine shrugged. "I don't know. She's finishing the rebirth process."

"How long will it take?" Sam asked, turning his attention back to the massive piles of books wobbling precariously on the table.

"I'm not sure. Probably just a few hours, like it did when she resurrected Adam." Dean offered up.

"Hey…" Adam cleared his throat. "In the meantime, Sam taught me how to shoot. You want to learn?"

Both Winchesters watched Adam lead Christine outside.

"This better not complicate things." Dean muttered.

"They're teenagers." Sam replied, not looking up from his books. "And I think it's cute."

"It's a problem. She's got an angel using her as a vessel." Dean pointed out.

"Only temporarily, I'm sure." Sam assured him. "Look, the kid went through a lot; a little romance might be just the thing to cheer him up. Besides, it's not like the next few days are going to be a cakewalk."

"Why? What's up?" Dean frowned.

"Kevin figured out the first task." Sam informed him. "Adam's got to kill a Hellhound."

::::::::::::::::::::::::

It was late in the evening when Magdalena returned with Castiel. Adam and Christine were still doing who-knew-what so Dean didn't get to see what happened when Magdalena took over her vessel again, but Castiel suddenly appeared at the table where Dean was sitting.

"Hello, Dean." Cas greeted him like it was just another day.

"Heya, Cas." Dean replied. He really didn't know what else to say.

Adam entered the room, closely followed by Christine – no, Magdalena. He wasn't sure exactly how he knew, but Dean assumed it was just the combination of several little things, all of which told him that the wingless angel was in control now.

"I'll expect you want to know the reason for my… previous condition." Castiel stated.

Sam nodded. Dean just looked at the ground. He continued to stare at his shoelaces as Castiel explained everything – the prophecy, the coming war with the demons…

"Whoa." Sam interrupted. "Crowley's the new King of Down Under. He doesn't seem the type to want a full-on war."

"Perhaps." Castiel admitted. "But it could be they are amassing because of the Leviathan threat."

"Hoo boy." Dean muttered.

"The Leviathan are gathering for a full-frontal assault. They intend to destroy the angels and then claim humanity."

"Where did you learn this?" Magdalena asked.

"Raziel discovered it and reported it to the archangels while I was being…" Castiel paused. Dean felt sick, or like punching something. Maybe both.

"So you think the Leviathan are posing a threat to the demons as well, and they're fighting back?" Sam inquired, saving Castiel from having to finish the sentence.

"Who cares why? What matters is that we now have two armies to fight off." Dean shot at him.

"We definitely have to get the Gates of Hell closed." Magdalena insisted.

"What did Kevin say those trials were, exactly?" Dean asked.

Magdalena recited. "The one who takes up the mantle must fear neither danger, nor death, nor…" She frowned. "Well, that one word is hard to translate. It basically means getting your spine ripped out through your mouth for all eternity."

"Good times." Dean remarked.

"Basically," Magdalena continued. "Kevin said that God built a series of tests to prove that the person – in this case Adam – is worthy. They have to complete three tasks and recite a spell in Enochian…"

Sam produced a piece of paper upon which was written said spell, placing it on the table.

"…after each task is finished."

"What were the tasks, then?" Dean asked.

"Kevin had only deciphered the first one." Sam said regretfully. "Kill a hound of hell and bathe in its blood."

"I gotta kill a Hellhound?" Adam looked like he wasn't sure if he should express outrage or faint.

"Christine says you can do it." Magdalena told him.

It might have been the lighting, but Dean thought he saw Adam blush. Oh man. This could not end well, no matter what Sam said.

"I am assuming that Kevin will call us once he has deciphered the next two tasks?" Castiel asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Kid's pushing himself too hard, getting three hours of sleep. I told him to slow it down but I don't think he'll listen. He'll get the rest deciphered as soon as he can."

"What about the Leviathan?" Magdalena protested. "I thought there was no sure way to kill them."

"True." Sam noted. "Decapitating only does so much."

"Please don't tell me we have to hit the books." Dean groaned.

Both Castiel and Sam looked absurdly pleased. Dean buried his head in his hands. This was going to be a long night.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

Sam gave a sigh worthy of any Christian martyr. "I'm going to look for more books." He stood up, carefully extracted himself from the mountain of books engulfing the table and disappearing into the maze of shelves.

Dean rubbed his eyes and looked around, blinking blearily. Adam had gone to bed a couple of hours ago. Magdalena was slumped over in a chair, her head resting on an ancient Israelite tome as she slept. Apparently, Magdalena was reduced to sleeping and eating as she rebuilt her Grace, thanks to giving some of it to Castiel upon resurrecting him, and using the rest to rebuild her wings. The girl's face was pressed into the book, her red hair falling over her eyes, one arm outstretched as if to shield her face from the harsh light of the lamps.

And Castiel…

Castiel was sitting on Dean's left, still reading intensely. Dean watched him for a few minutes, the irony of his staring not lost upon him. The lamp illuminated Cas's face, showing the lines etched into the skin and the shadows under his eyes, those eyes that burned as blue as ever, the very heart of flame. His hair was, as usual, an endearing mess, parts of it sticking up or falling into his face like he'd just rolled out of bed. The slight five o'clock shadow he was sporting helped define his jaw and cheekbones, his lips pursed slightly in concentration as he tried to tease an answer out of the ancient text.

Suddenly he looked up, as if he could feel the heat of Dean's gaze upon him. They locked eyes, and it struck Dean that this was an incredibly cheesy moment that belonged in the latest romantic comedy box office bomb, but he couldn't tear himself away from Cas's gaze. There was something so open and raw in the angel's eyes that Dean had never seen before. Dean wasn't quite sure what it was but something had lifted, some wall had dropped away, and the nameless thing he saw in Castiel's face was causing the air in his lungs to vanish and leaving him gasping.

He wasn't sure who moved first, which one of them dared to inch forward. They'd played emotional chicken plenty of times but this was different. Once they started this, they couldn't back away. There was nothing to hide behind anymore, no excuse to jump ship.

His eyes slid closed instinctively as their lips connected. Castiel's lips were dry and a little chapped, but he was a lot better at it then Dean had expected him to be. _Rachel and Meg_, he reminded himself. Strangely, he didn't begrudge Castiel those… whatever they were. Okay, maybe a little. But Dean's first time sure wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and while he liked the idea of, well, breaking Cas in, so to speak, a part of him was grateful that they would be on more equal footing. He didn't have to worry so much about scaring Cas or (and at this he felt a tiny jab of horror) hurting him.

Dean slid his hand up and into Castiel's surprisingly soft hair, reveling in the feel of the strands weaving through his fingers. Castiel gave a tiny gasp and Dean slid his tongue in instinctively, not thinking about what Cas's reaction might be until he'd already done it. To his surprise – and, yeah, pleasure – Castiel responded eagerly, opening his mouth further and tilting his head in that distinct way of his, his tongue raking the roof of Dean's mouth.

They were standing (When did that happen?) and Cas was pulling Dean closer, tugging on the lapels of his jacket. Dean wrapped his other arm around Cas's waist to help steady them, pulling Cas completely against him. Heat pooled low in his stomach, churning slowly, sending shivers through his body. This, this was good. This was perfect. Could Cas just freeze time and keep them like this forever? Sliding their tongues together, practically fucking the wet heat of the angel's mouth, sucking on that plump bottom lip… Bumping their foreheads together and brushing against Cas's stubble, hands that gripped a little too tightly and breaths that were ragged and harsh… Feeling that firm slender body against him and holding him close, knowing that Cas was there and safe and undeniably _his_ – if there was ever a moment that Dean never wanted to end, that was it. After this, there was uncertainty and violence and danger and death, gut-wrenching decisions that haunted your footsteps, enemies around every corner and no light at the end of the tunnel. But now, now, _now…_

There was a series of thuds followed by a muffled explanation and a series of curses, sounds that, although quiet, were enough to pierce their tiny bubble and send it collapsing around them.

"That'll be Sam." Cas whispered, his lips brushing against Dean's.

Dean pulled back slightly, feeling Cas do the same, and opened his eyes. On the days when he drew close to sentimentality, Dean thought that Cas was fuckin' beautiful. But never like this. The angel looked slightly wrecked, with his hair sticking up at odd angles, his lips red and swollen and shining wet, his cheeks red and blotchy and the shine of his eyes coated with a glaze of desire. Whatever shreds of fear or doubt Dean might still have been harboring went up in smoke as Cas gave him one of his almost-smiles, his whole face lighting up although his mouth hardly moved. Dean tightened his grip on Cas's waist, lowering his other arm so that it was wrapped around Cas's upper back, his hand gripping the angel's shoulder. Cas noted the position of Dean's arms and gave a throaty chuckle.

"What?" Dean asked.

Castiel's lips twitched. "This is how I carried you when I raised you from Perdition."

Dean felt the handprint on his shoulder tingle.

From the table came a small mewling noise, and they sprung apart like guilty teenagers caught in the backseat. Magdalena stirred slowly, lifting her head up as if it weighed a hundred pounds. She blinked at them slowly, her eyes taking a minute to focus.

"Did I miss anything?" She finally asked, her words thick and slurred from sleep. Dean found her remark almost laughable, considering.

"No." Castiel replied. "We have yet to find a solution."

Magdalena nodded groggily. "Great. I'm just gonna… if 'iz okay…" She stumbled off and promptly collapsed upon the nearest couch.

Dean only had time to turn to Castiel with an incredulously raised eyebrow before Sam emerged – or rather Sam's body emerged carrying the Leaning Tower of Books, his head completely obscured from view. The younger Winchester set them on the table with an _oomph_ and surveyed the pile with his hands on his hips.

"I take it we won't be getting any sleep tonight." Dean observed.

Sam rewarded him with Bitchface #45. Dean rubbed circles into the skin between his eyebrows, sighing. "I'll go make us some more coffee."

Although he didn't request it or expect it, Cas followed him into the kitchen, quietly observing him as he went about preparing the liquid caffeine to jumpstart his and Sammy's systems and, hopefully, ward off sleep for another few hours. Dean found that breathing was easier. The last barrier holding them back had fallen, silently and unobtrusively, and for the first time in forever Dean felt free. Cas didn't say anything – in fact, they didn't really talk to each other for the rest of the night – but when they finally dragged themselves to bed, Cas went with him.

He wanted to show off his room, and he would… at another time, when the sun wasn't determinedly turning the sky into a painter's mess of pink and purple and orange, and when he wasn't so tired his eyes couldn't open more than a millimeter. For now, it was more than enough that when he fell onto his (infinitely comfortable memory-foam) bed, a spark of Grace found him under the covers, stripped except for his boxers. Cas crawled in next to him, nuzzling into his side like an overgrown cat, and Dean draped an arm lazily over the angel's waist, burying his nose into the soft dark hair.

Screw the Host and their Paradise. This was Heaven.

**Random Author Note: For years, people believed that the left hand was the weak hand, and left-handed people were weaker of mind or more inclined to follow the Devil. I put Cas on Dean's left-hand side because, well, Cas is Dean's weakness, isn't he?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Fifteen pages. Oops.**

Heavy… warm… mmm, smelled good too, like fresh rain and summer air and aftershave… Dean buried his nose further into the soft whatever-it-was that smelled so nice. There was a hint of something more in there… ozone and frankincense and ancient earth… Something warm and heavy was on his chest, which was unusual. He didn't remember bringing a girl home… not that he'd brought a girl home in over a year… not counting Purgatory…

His arm was apparently around this warm heavy good-smelling thing, so he gave an experimental squeeze. The warm thing gave a sleepy grumble and shifted a little. Dean raised his head a little and gazed down the bridge of his nose. A scruffy mop of dark hair came into view, along with a pale, slender body resting against his side, an arm, shoulder and head resting on Dean's chest.

And then he remembered – Cas. Going to Purgatory, yanking Cas back to the land of the living, researching how to kill Leviathan… and everything after…

Oh. Yeah.

Dean scooted backwards on the bed a bit, enabling him to sit up. "Cas?" He asked.

The angel mumbled something but didn't move.

"Cas… are you asleep?" Dean tried to wrap his head around the concept that Mr. I Am An Angel And Don't Need Pathetic Human Things Like Sleep was actually pretty much passed out on his chest.

"I was." Cas replied, grumbling.

Dean failed to suppress a chuckle. "What happened to the angel mojo and no- needing-sleep thing?"

"Just because I do not need sleep doesn't mean that I can't indulge in it if I want to." Castiel replied. "And I wanted to."

Dean's heart did a painful thud against his ribcage at that statement. Cas had decided to go to sleep – a human necessity that, to an angel, showed weakness and inferiority – to be with him.

He really didn't deserve this guy, did he?

Sam poked his head in. Dean promised himself that if his little brother didn't get a haircut of his own accord, Dean was going to take it upon himself to chop those locks off.

"You guys up?"

Dean glared at him. "What do you think?"

Sam didn't look the least bit abashed. "I made coffee. Adam and Magdalena are up so we're hitting the books."

From down the hall came Adam's muffled shout of, "If Dean's not getting up I'm taking his coffee!"

"If you want your spine ripped out, sure!" Dean shouted back.

Sam gave Dean a look and jerked his head towards Cas. Dean's glare intensified. "Something you want to say?" He challenged.

"Nope." Sam grinned. "I'm good."

He vanished around the corner, still looking far too smug for Dean's liking.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

"I'm telling you, there's nothing." Sam insisted, slamming a book shut.

"There has to be!" Dean shot back. "One of these books has got to have something on the Chompers – maybe it calls them by a different name."

"Dean, I looked everywhere, under every possible name. There's no way to kill a Leviathan other than what we used on Dick Roman." Sam replied.

"What are we supposed to do, then?" Dean demanded. "Dig up an entire convent cemetery and stab the fuckers one by one?"

"That sounds time consuming." Castiel said dryly. It took Dean a second to realize that the angel was joking.

"Look," Sam said, trying to maintain an even tone, "I don't like this anymore than you do. This is what we have to work with, and so let's go from here. Let's get creative."

"Creative? How do you propose we 'get creative'?" Dean asked.

"Well…" Sam looked over at Adam, fidgeting with the pen in his hands. "While you were asleep, Adam and I discussed the possibility of… well, finding a way to turn one weapon into a hundred. Consider a bomb; it's one weapon, but it can do loads of damage."

"You want to nuke them?" Dean folded his arms. "Where the hell are we going to get our hands on something like that?"

"We wouldn't nuke them – not in the traditional sense, anyway." Adam piped in. "In the days of pirates and fights on the high seas, there were special cannonballs that opened up in mid-flight and let drop a bunch of smaller, spiked balls or something similar. They could do a lot of damage."

"When we decapitate a Leviathan or Borax it, nothing happens, but when Dick died, it opened a portal to Purgatory and sucked you guys in." Sam explained. "We figure, if we launch something that will unleash a bunch of fragments of bone, all properly prepared, they'll hit enough Leviathan to kill a lot of them outright, and the rest will be sucked into Purgatory with all the portals opening."

"Some might survive." Dean pointed out.

"Maybe." Sam nodded. "But not enough to stand and fight. They'll have to hightail it if they want to keep their heads on their shoulders."

Dean glanced over at Castiel, who's brow was furrowed and his lips slightly pursed as he thought over Sam's idea. Now that Dean knew how those lips felt, what it was like to sink his teeth into them, how they tasted when he ran his tongue over their seal… he swallowed hard and turned back to his brother.

"So what's it going to take?" He asked.

Sam looked over the books in front of him. "Well, we've got various methods to choose from, but I think we'll have to get a whole skeleton instead of just one bone."

"Piece of cake." Dean snorted sarcastically.

"And, of course, we'll have to coat the whole thing in the three required bloods…"

"Which means contacting Crowley again." Dean made a face. "Always fun."

"We'll have to find the Alpha…"

"Benny can help with that." Dean added. Finally; a silver lining.

Sam's face did an excellent impression of a wall of stone.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

_He doesn't like Benny. What? The guy rubs him the wrong way._

_Sam gets it. He does. Dean was going crazy, tearing up Purgatory to find Castiel, and Benny helped out. Strange bedfellows and all that. It happens._

_The thing is, Benny's a vampire. The man is literally addicted to human blood. That's not something you let go of lightly. What if he'd snapped and drunk from Dean? Supposedly Benny's 'reforming', but Sam knows firsthand what a slippery slope that is. All it takes is one moment of weakness and you're regressing, sliding into the gaping maw of dependency._

_Speaking of dependency, Sam also doesn't like how much Dean leans on the guy. Maybe Benny's earned that trust, and maybe he hasn't. But what if the day comes when he pulls the rug out from under Dean? What then?_

_It has nothing to do with jealousy. It has nothing to do with him and Ruby. And it has nothing to do with his time spent craving blood._

_At least, that's what he keeps trying to tell himself._

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

Sam wondered if he should be worried that Magdalena was so excited at the prospect of robbing a graveyard.

After some research, they'd selected a suitably pure set of bones (once again those of a nun) and Sam had elected to retrieve them. To everyone's surprise, Magdalena had begged to come too, which was why she was currently sitting in shotgun in the Impala, practically bouncing in her seat with anticipation. She reminded him of Riot. Man, could that dog get hyper. He'd jump around like crazy, his tail wagging so fast it looked ready to fall off, panting excitedly about playing fetch or going on a walk or jumping through the sprinkler.

He really missed that dog.

They parked down the street from the church's back entrance to avoid suspicion. Cops would be sure to ask if anyone had seen a vehicle in front of the building, and Sam didn't want to take any chances. A vintage '60s Chevy Impala was a pretty distinctive car.

They rolled to a stop along the curb. Sam cut the engine, scanning the vicinity. There wasn't a lit window in the block.

"All right. We're going to do this quick and quiet." He glanced over at Magdalena, who nodded seriously, her hands in her lap. "You ready?"

Magdalena beamed. "Yup!"

They got out of the car. Sam closed his door carefully, but Magdalena slammed it shut without thinking. The sound echoed painfully in the still darkness of the street, and Magdalena screwed up her face.

"Sorry." She whispered.

Sam didn't know whether to laugh or groan. This was like working with Castiel… only the angel in question was clumsy as well as hopelessly naïve.

Still, there was one distinct advantage to having Magdalena over Castiel: no Castiel meant no Dean, and no Dean meant no eye-fucking between the two every ten minutes. Talk about a third wheel.

Breaking the lock on the church was laughably easy, but it gave Sam a sense of guilt that was much harder to deal with. It was never shame – he knew that they were helping people, and he felt a sense of pride at that. But there was a sense of regret that always rushed in at times like these. It was in those little moments that he knew this wasn't for him. He liked the sense of accomplishment, the feeling that he was saving others who couldn't, for whatever reason, save themselves. But it didn't fit right. It was like trying on a pair of jeans that didn't quite fit – too short in the crotch or too long in the leg.

The life he'd glimpsed over the past few months really wasn't helping matters.

::::::::::::::::::::::::

_In the weeks after Dick Roman's disappearance, a lot of shit (or black goo, as it were) hits a really big fan._

_Not the best analogy, but it seems to fit._

_He blows up the SucroCorp facility, like Kevin asked. All of the board members are there (discussing something about creamer cups – go figure) so that takes out a lot of big players in one go as well as the R&D. Three big cheers, throw confetti, time to party, right?_

_Yeah. There's still the little matter of the several Levis strategically placed in the media and law enforcement. Long story short, one Sam Winchester (mysteriously back from the dead a third time, but let's not bother the public with details, shall we?) is branded a domestic terrorist._

_Good thing he knows how to live off the grid, huh?_

_Over the next couple of months the Leviathan empire begins to crumble. The general populace, no longer dumbed down like so many cattle, starts to learn more about the dangers of food additives. When celebrities start dying, things really take a turn for the chaotic. Still, he spends a good half a year at the top of the Most Wanted list, so he covers his tracks and stays away from his fellow man as much as possible. He even gets a haircut at first, although it eventually grows back with a vengeance and he doesn't bother on the upkeep. He considers crossing the border, but the ties of the homeland are too strong._

_Hell, he's so off the grid he finds Frank._

_He sees fire and rain, sunny days that feel like they're never going to end, sunsets and sunrises beyond number, and manages to catch a few films here and there._

_He doesn't search for Dean._

_It takes a while, but around the six-month mark he starts to get curious about the state of the nation. He's low on gas, too, so he takes a drive to the nearest town – one Kermit, Texas – and pops some change into a payphone. Garth gives him the lowdown: a few Leviathan tries to regain control but were quickly put down, either by Hunters or competitors, and some are rumored to be working for demons now. (Defected to Crowley for protection, no doubt. Asshole.) The odd thing is, most of them vanished. They're as off the grid as Sam is. That makes both men suspicious, but as he listens to Garth ramble on Sam begins to realize… he doesn't care. He cares, that is, but in a detached sort of way that he assumes most U.S. citizens feel when they hear about the war in the Middle East. It's present and real and he cares about the outcome, but it's not his battle. It no longer feels like his war._

_He's polite enough to pay attention as Garth describes the movement to squash what's left of the Chompers. From the sound of it, the guy's practically the next Ellen, and Fizzle's Folly is the new Roadhouse. He deploys Hunters to deal with localized monster threats, sends them to deal with the remaining Levis whenever they crop up, he slices, he dices…_

_The truth of it is, it sounds like Garth's got everything under control. Dean would probably be pissed at that but Sam feels… he feels relieved. He doesn't have to worry or wonder. Garth and the others will handle everything just fine. Besides, the Winchesters have always been magnets for trouble. He's sure that the rest of the community is glad they don't have to deal with apocalypse-causing brothers anymore._

_He wishes the guy well and hangs up._

_And just like that, he leaves the Life behind._

::::::::::::::::::::::::

"I never realized you humans were so frail." Magdalena commented, staring at the skeleton carefully laid out on the table.

"They're deceptively strong." Castiel chastised. Magdalena looked slightly like an admonished puppy, her head ducking down and her eyes becoming big and sad. Sam held back a chuckle.

"Yo, Cas – help me move this stuff." Dean called, hefting some parts for the bomb across the room. Castiel effortlessly lifted the rest of the equipment and helped Dean move it to the table. Sam eyed it all critically.

"You sure this'll work?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded. "Yup. Should only take me half a day to get this put together. The problem will be getting the blood to coat the bones."

"Fallen angel is easy." Dean jerked his thumb at Castiel.

"Actually, I am still connected to Heaven. Magdalena would fit that bill." Castiel argued. "She was cast out and cut off from Heaven after attacking Naomi."

"You _attacked_ her?" Dean couldn't decide whether to be amused or impressed. "When you said you broke her control I thought you just… got to Cas or something."

Magdalena looked abashed. "I waited until she was having one of her sessions with Castiel."

"She jumped her." Castiel informed them, his eyes glowing with amusement.

"So Magdalena's blood will work." Said Sam. "That still leaves us Crowley and the Alpha."

"I'll give Benny a call." Dean decided. "We can summon Crowley while we wait for Benny to arrive."

"You're giving him the location of this place?" Sam planted his fists on the table, his entire face tightening. Magdalena blinked in shock, unsure how to handle this sudden change in the brother she'd come to view as the mild-mannered one. Adam looked from Sam to Dean and back again, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. , Dean stared back at Sam, leveling his gaze challengingly.

To everyone's surprise, it was Castiel who broke the suddenly tension-filled room.

"He is trustworthy." The angel graveled. Sam started, looking at Castiel like he'd grown a second head.

"He's what? How come you trust him? He's an abomination."

"Benny proved himself to genuinely care for Dean's welfare during our time in Purgatory." Castiel informed the younger Winchester. "I would certainly never claim to enjoy the man's company, but Benny is trustworthy."

Sam stared at Castiel, his mouth hanging open a little, for roughly thirty seconds before standing up, shooting the angel a betrayed look before stalking off and disappearing into the sea of books.

"What was that about?" Adam asked no one in particular.

Dean and Castiel ignored the teen in favor of waging a silent battle over who was going to talk some reason into Sam.

"This is ridiculous." Magdalena muttered with a roll of her eyes. She went after Sam, leaving the two older men to shoot frustrated glances at each other.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

"How, exactly, does this thing work?" Adam asked apprehensively, eyeing the signs and supernatural paraphernalia set out on the floor.

"It's to summon Crowley." Dean explained as Sam drew another line on the floor.

"The new King of Hell." Adam looked sick.

Magdalena finished pouring the scotch and set it in the specified place among the signs. "If demons come immediately when they are summoned, then why do we need alcohol to make Crowley arrive quicker?"

"He likes to take his time." Dean muttered. "I think he just does it to piss us off."

Magdalena frowned at him, then turned to Castiel. "Does that sound right to you?"

"Crowley has always played by his own rules." Castiel replied. "He even lacks loyalty to Lucifer." Even Meg, for all the help she'd given Castiel, had the unquestionable loyalty to her maker that ran through all the demons.

Magdalena continued to look oddly at the liquor as Sam finished the preparations.

"All right." Said Sam as he stood up and took a step back. "One King of the Crossroads, coming up."

"Crossroads?" Magdalena's odd expression grew more pronounced. She backed away so that she was behind Castiel, her eyes wide as her fear showed.

It took precisely two minutes for the demon to show up, looking like he'd just finished a rather relaxing nap.

"You boys? Again?" Crowley sighed. "I was just about to have some quality alone time."

Sam pulled out Bitchface #47, while Dean looked slightly disgusted. Adam raked his eyes over Crowley like he really wasn't sure what to make of the guy. Castiel merely looked impatient. Everyone could tell by Magdalena's face that she had no idea what Crowley's remark meant.

"We need some of your blood again." Castiel informed the demon. "And why are you starting a war?"

Castiel had never had a talent for subtlety, except for in his humor, and it was clear by then he'd never learn it.

"Let's get to the point of things, shall we? None of this hoity-toity small talk." Crowley replied sarcastically.

Magdalena made a tiny sound and tugged on Castiel's sleeve. "Castiel…" She whispered.

It all made sense to her now.

:::::::::::::::::::::

"_Please come back, Gabriel. The entire garrison misses you. I miss you."_

"_You know I can't do that, Little One."_

"_But…"_

"_No buts. I've made my decision."_

"_And cast your lot with the likes of these? Gabriel! I've seen how they treat humanity – as little more than playthings! You're better than this!"_

"_Am I?"_

_She stares at him. This adored elder sibling, who played with her and looked after her and told her the most amusing stories, is now looking at her with such a hard, closed off expression that she can hardly believe it's the same being. This isn't how it's supposed to go._

_Something in her face must have tugged at him, because he softens and gently smoothes back her hair. Her vessel is the same age as his, beautiful, with dark hair and a commanding presence, but it doesn't fit. She feels like a child wearing their parent's clothing, too big and loose. She feels anything but commanding or beautiful. She feels small, and young, and unsure._

"_The world is more complicated than that, Little One." Gabriel tells her. "There is much you do not understand."_

"_What I understand is that you are a coward and a child." She shoots back, anger that she didn't know she had bubbling up from somewhere deep inside of her. "You could be helping to make things better! Michael would listen to you, even if Raphael wouldn't. You can help him lighten up a little."_

"_What was broken cannot be mended so quickly, Magdalena. As for those humans…"_

_A rapping at the door disturbs them. Magdalena freezes in her seat. Is it one of the Host? Was she followed? Do they know she has left Heaven?_

_Gabriel exchanges a few words with the person at the door, their voices too low for her to make out any words. After a brief exchange, the person enters. He's sporting a slightly homely vessel but she can see his true face. He's not a demon, but it's a close call._

"_Legba… this is my wife, Sigyn. Sigyn, this is Legba. He's the Yoruban God of Crossroads and Gateways. He also has the handy ability to speak every language."_

"_Very helpful when making a deal." The man smiles at her. He sports a deceptively calm British accent. "Although my proper name is Papa Legba, Loki." He admonishes with a chilling smile._

"_Pleasure to meet you." Magdalena replies. She doesn't know how she's supposed to react as Sigyn, or if someone named Sigyn even exists. But Gabriel can hardly introduce her as his younger sister, the bastard angel._

_Papa Legba gives her a perfunctory once-over before turning back to Gabriel. "I'm afraid I must collect on the favor you owe me. Ra is making absurd demands again and I need Odin to back me up on this one."_

"_You know he prefers Thor over me." Gabriel cuts in._

"_Yes, but you are close to the God of Thunder; his half-brother, but more importantly, his friend and his confidante. If you can persuade him, he can in turn persuade your father."_

_Gabriel pretends to mull it over, even though Magdalena knows he made up his mind the split-second the question was asked. He might even have surmised what Legba wanted the minute he stepped over the threshold._

"_I'll consider it and get back to you in a short bit." Gabriel finally informs the god. "Right now I have some family matters to attend to."_

"_Of course." Legba glances over at Magdalena. "I won't keep you. It was lovely to meet you, Lady Sigyn." He gives her another smile that makes her Grace crawl underneath her vessel's skin, and exits._

_Gabriel sits down heavily, his face pinched._

"_And you claim this is easier than staying in Heaven." She points out accusingly._

_It's the first and last time they have a fight, and it ends when she storms out, slamming the door with all of her Grace-filled might._

_If she'd known it would be the second to last time she ever saw him, she would have done it differently._

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Look, we just want to talk." Sam said.

"Unfortunately." Dean muttered.

"You know that taking on the Leviathans is close to suicide, especially if they're following a Roman-laid plan, and while you may be able to defeat the angels it'll be a close call, and a bloody one." Sam explained. "If you give us some of your blood, we can get rid of at least one threat and you'll have the angels all to yourselves. No worrying about half of your army getting chomped before you can even reach the feathered folk."

Magdalena kept tugging on Castiel's sleeve. "What is it, Little One?" He asked.

"He's not a demon." Magdalena said fervently.

"He's not – what?" Dean asked.

Crowley sighed. "Botheration."

"He's not a demon." Magdalena repeated. "He's Papa Legba."

"Whosawhats? He's someone's dad?" Dean was a little confused, and the thought pleased him none.

"Papa Legba is an Old God, from Yourba mythology. He's the guardian of crossroads and gateways." Magdalena explained. She stared Crowley down. "I was Sigyn. I was there when you asked Loki for help in convincing Odin to deal with Ra. You're a little easy to recognize when you use the same vessel for a few hundred years."

Everybody stared at her – Dean with various levels of confusion, Castiel with a split between intrigued and annoyed, Sam with dawning realization, and Crowley with pure irritation.

Adam looked like a part of him couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was all a bit much to process.

"By 'Loki' I assume you mean Gabriel." Crowley sneered. "That pretentious little whelp was nothing but a petulant teenager out for a joyride. We figured out what he was a couple hundred years into the game but we were generous. We let him stay. But it's our time, sweetheart. Your kind stole humanity from us, and we're going to take it back."

As he spoke, it all fell into place. The little things that had been off or not exactly in keeping with the behavior of a demon… it all made sense now. Demons came instantaneously. Crowley didn't. Demons were loyal to Lucifer. Crowley wasn't. Crossroad Demons had red eyes. Crowley didn't. Demons had to vacate their meatsuit to vanish and reappear. Crowley didn't.

"God was there before any of you, and He will still be here long after you have all faded away." Castiel stated calmly.

"We can discuss such theories later, darling." Crowley waved it away. "The point is, we're a little sick of nobody praying to us. I used to get good strong alcohol about twice a week and a blood sacrifice every month or so. Now it's nothing but saint this and saint that, guardian angels and Jesus Tap-Dancing Christ." Crowley's voice was calm, but without the usual mocking tone or cavalier attitude. Magdalena was the only one who physically shrank away from him, but everyone could feel the anger radiating off of the god.

"The Leviathans must be defeated, blah blah blah, yes, but they're not the main goal. The demons follow me, now. Lucifer gave them a good thousand years of practice being minions, so they're not really going to protest when I tell them to sock it to the pretentious bastards reclining on clouds. Everything comes and goes in cycles, sweetie, and it's time for the wheel to spin again. At the risk of sounding horribly cliché, it's our time." The smile Crowley flashed them was sickening.

"You son of a–" Dean moved forward and found himself flung against the nearest wall, his back colliding with the concrete before he slumped to the floor.

Castiel made a wrathful sound that was not entirely human and strode forward, ready to smite Crowley – or at least numb the bastard's jaw – but Sam flung out an arm to hold him back.

"Nah-ah-ah." Crowley wagged a finger playfully, like they were misbehaving children. He flicked a finger and Dean flew against the wall again, his head making a sickening thud.

While neither Winchester had ever seen Castiel's face when he was playing God and striking down bigots, Magdalena had, and she saw that look once more on her brother's face. If he was given half a chance, Castiel was going to tear Crowley limb from limb. Still, it was difficult for the angel to get past the towering frame and sheer muscle mass of the younger Winchester, angel mojo or no.

Crowley smiled, his trademark close-lipped leer lacking in empathy but brimming with mirth and smug satisfaction. "And you're supposed to be the leader who defeats us?" He asked Castiel, his smile widening. "What are they going to do, give you back your virginity or something, make you all pure again so you can lead them _properly_? You poor darling. Well, I'll let you all argue amongst yourselves. Ta."

Instead of disappearing, however, Crowley let out a howl of pain, staggering as the tip of a blade protruded from his chest. Magdalena appeared from behind the god, her mouth set in a grim line. She wrapped an arm around Crowley and drove the blade in deeper, holding him against her. In her other hand she held a glass, which she quickly used to catch the drops of blood that ran down the blade and her arm. She yanked the blade out, setting the glass down gently on the table. Crowley whirled on her, his eyes blazing. He slapped her, hard, her head snapping and causing her to stumble back.

"Fool child." Crowley sneered. "You really thought a simple angel blade could kill an Old God?"

Magdalena's face was red where he'd slapped her, but her eyes glinted. "No, but I was hoping an archangel blade might."

Castiel made a choking noise. Sam and Adam's eyes immediately flew to the weapon in Magdalena's hand. The room was still spinning a little so Dean couldn't really see, but he heard what the young angel said. Now he knew where he'd seen her blade before…

_Gabriel's blade is missing…_

"Close, but no cigar." Crowley said derisively. "It's been fun, but I have a war to prepare for." He glared at Castiel, open hatred making his eyes blaze. "I am greatly looking forward to dealing with you."

Castiel broke free of Sam's grip and made a dash for him, but the Old God vanished with a chuckle, leaving the angel grasping at air. Castiel whipped around with a frustrated growl, glaring at the open air as though it were the cause of all of his problems.

Dean gave a groan and slowly started standing up. "It's been a while since I was slammed into a wall like that." He muttered. "Kinda forgot how much it hurt."

Castiel was with him before the others could blink, carefully helping Dean up. Sam hurried over as well, supporting his brother's other side.

"I hate to call attention to my angel's heroic efforts." Christine said, holding up the glass full of blood. "But she did just get you guys the blood you needed."

Everyone stared at her.

"Magdalena, you really have to stop switching who's in control there." Dean told her.

The teen folded her arms and gave him a look that, in all honesty, could have belonged to either the angel or the human soul occupying the body.

"Little One…" Castiel frowned. "Where did you get that blade?"

This time it was clearly Magdalena who looked abashed, holding up the bloodied blade and biting her lip. "I was surprised you didn't remember noticing it during our fight." She mumbled.

Castiel leveled his gaze at her, and both Winchesters were reminded of when Bobby caught them doing something they shouldn't have.

"Just what, Magdalena, did Gabriel talk you into?"

::::::::::::::::::

_She never expected to see him after their sibling spat, and she certainly didn't expect to see him in Heaven._

_But apparently circumstances are desperate enough that even the archangel Gabriel is willing to bend a little. And, maybe, grovel._

_Well, as close to groveling as the guy's ever going to get. She swears that as long as she exists she will never meet a more smug or self-satisfied being, and angels in general can get pretty arrogant._

_But here he is, in the Garden (out of sight of Joshua), begging her to help him._

"_You won't really be an archangel, Lana. You'd need the blessing of our Father for that."_

"_Gabriel, I can't. I can't accept such responsibility. I'm barely an angel. I might as well be a Cherub! I can't have an archangel blade."_

"_Yes, you can!" He crouches down and puts his hands on her shoulders. His face is softer than she's ever seen it, open and pleading. "Magdalena, please. Things are happening – I can't tell you, so don't give me those puppy eyes – and it might end badly for us."_

"_Is Castiel involved?"_

"_Yes."_

"_And the Righteous Man?"_

_Gabriel chuckles. "If Dean Winchester's involved, then you can bed our Cassie is too."_

_She squares her shoulders. "Then I'll do it."_

_Gabriel pouts. "You'll do it for Castiel but not for me?" She can tell he isn't truly upset – he actually looks pleased. It strikes her that Gabriel is scared. Of what, she doesn't know, but he is truly frightened._

"_We better start then." He stands up and pulls out the supplies, the last of which is the blade itself. It glints in the light, longer and a little thicker than the blades that the other angels carry. She's hesitant to touch it, but when he offers it to her she forces herself to take it, grasping the handle as hard as she dares, afraid that it'll slip out of her hands._

"_Before we start, I want you to understand something." Gabriel tilts her chin up, forcing her to look him full in the face. "Like I said, things might go badly for us. If that happens, and this blade becomes yours… I want you to promise me something. You and Castiel are the only ones left that matter, Little One. If you take this blade, you have to promise to use it to protect him. You two have to look out for each other. Do you promise me that?"_

_She nods slowly, swallowing hard._

_Gabriel might be the youngest archangel but he's always played the 'fun brother' with the younger angels and he has a mighty strong protective streak. There are a lot of things she's come to understand about Gabriel, and a few things she's certainly taken issue with, but for all of his cavalier attitude and his cowardice and his view of humans as playthings, there are still things to admire about Gabriel. And right now, she can't remember a single thing about him that irks her. She just wants him to cuddle her and tell her stories about the Old Gods and play hide-and-seek like they did when she was little. She doesn't want this responsibility. She doesn't want this fear thrumming through her._

_She doesn't want Gabriel to die._

_The blade is unusually light in her hand, balanced despite its length. It glows faintly, as pure as Grace. Maybe it is. She doesn't know what angel blades are made of. It fits perfectly in her hand, smooth but not slippery, easy to wield and handle. Still, she's grateful when the ceremony is over and Gabriel takes it back._

_She hopes she never has to hold it again._

::::::::::::::::::::::

"How much does this change the plan?" Sam asked. "Now that the Old Gods are in the game… what can we expect?"

"I assume that they will let the demons be… cannon fodder, as it were." Castiel mused. "Lead the attack, hold the front line, exhaust the angels so that the Old Gods can deliver the killing blow."

"Riding in with all of their glory, no doubt." Dean grumbled. He leaned forward and planted his hands on the table, staring down at the smooth wood.

"How do you know about Glory?" Magdalena asked.

The others stared at her, perplexed.

"Glory is the Old Gods' version of Grace." Magdalena explained. "It operates very similarly, only the light it gives off is golden, not colorless."

Sam stood up. "I need to hit the books." He declared. "Adam, would you mind…?"

Adam jumped up and hurried after Sam as the elder man began to grab books off the shelves. Castiel turned to Dean.

"There's no way to stop the battle, Dean." The angel frowned. "The Old Gods have been spurned many times. This will make the war much harder to win."

"One thing I don't understand," Dean said contemplatively, "Is why they'd let Crowley run the show. I've never heard of Papa…"

"Legba." Magdalena supplied helpfully.

"Yeah, him." Dean nodded. "But I do know about Zeus and Odin and all, and I don't think they'd shove over for a minor god from the corner of no and where."

"I confess that I don't know very much about the Old Gods, but I doubt that Crowley would be easily accepted as their leader."

Magdalena was quick to explain. "There's a council that runs things, made up of the head gods from each group. Zeus and Odin are a part of it, as are Amon-Ra and Tezcatlipoca." Dean was not even going to try and pronounce that name. "Everyone's in on it. The gods do whatever they want – they're like a huge, extended, bickering family, according to Gabriel – but any major decision or action has to be approved by the council."

"Which means that Crowley would have had to petition them to get involved in the war." Dean said slowly, digesting the information.

"He is rather persuasive." Castiel acknowledged.

"Those old bastards would have jumped at the chance to reclaim their glory." Dean said. "And Crowley does hold a huge card with the whole King-of-Hell thing."

"The demons will be a loyal army, and they are vast in numbers." Castiel confirmed.

"The thing is…" Dean said slowly, "Whether he's an Old God or a demon, Crowley makes deals. He must have gotten a sweet deal out of this if he's going to show his hand to the angels and demons. They must know what's going on, right?"

"Maybe not." Castiel replied cautiously. "The Host will know, once the Old Gods appear in battle, but not before. The demons might not know until that moment, either."

"Listen to this." Sam announced, reading from a book. Adam dumped several more onto the table, nearly knocking over the glass of Crowley's blood. Magdalena hastily retrieved it and moved it to a separate table, out of harm's way. Sam cleared his throat.

"This book says that like angels, Old Gods consume souls to replenish their power. However, unlike angels, who only consume souls to… well, power-up, basically, Olds Gods need souls to survive. They wither away into nothing without them. Souls can take many forms, including the famed ambrosia of the Greek gods, but basically they need a steady supply. They're also addicted to alcohol…"

"That explains a few things." Dean commented.

Sam shot him a look and snapped the book shut. "Basically, they need souls to live. Only humans are no longer giving them souls in the form of sacrifices."

"Which is why they're trying to close the Gates of Heaven and reassert themselves in the minds of humanity." Castiel said.

Dean stood up. "Cas." He turned. "What place has souls just ripe for the picking?"

Castiel frowned. "Purgatory." He answered. "Hell and Heaven have already claimed their souls, and most souls left on Earth belong to living beings."

Dean grinned. "Exactly. So the Old Gods need souls and want to close the Gates of Heaven. Crowley wants the Leviathan out of his hair, and since he's an Old God, he'll need souls too."

Castiel tilted his head at Dean perplexedly. Then he straightened up, his eyes glowing with understanding. "Crowley offered the Old Gods Purgatory in exchange for helping him to destroy the Leviathan."

Dean nodded. "Crowley figures he can't take on Heaven by himself. So he convinces the Old Gods and they join up against the angels – something they all hate. Crowley sweetens the deal by promising the Old Gods the souls in Purgatory, which will be easy to nab once the Chompers are out of the picture."

"I highly doubt Crowley would give up such a large number of souls." Castiel said doubtfully.

Dean widened his grin. "Yup. I'd lay money the son of a bitch'll turn on the gods faster than you can say 'traitor'."

"But that would be reneging on the deal." Castiel protested.

"I'll bet there's a loophole." Dean replied.

"He didn't inform Ellie about the ten-year bit." Sam pointed out. "He's not a demon, Castiel – he makes deals based on his own terms, not following a contract set up by Hell."

"Let's tally up the score." Dean leaned casually against the table. "Angels locked up in Heaven, Old Gods dead, Leviathans blown to bits, demons either dead or loyal to Crowley… and all the souls of Hell and Purgatory, just waiting upon his pleasure. It's a pretty smart plan."

"How will Crowley even know how to close the Gates?" Magdalena protested.

"He got that out of Samandriel." Castiel said darkly. He still felt guilt over that. He was supposed to save the angel, to help one of his kind after all the destruction he had caused, and instead he'd been forced to kill him. And Samandriel was, although almost as old as Castiel, still inexperienced and young in spirit. He was a child, really, same as Magdalena.

He idly wondered if he was ever going to stop feeling guilt over his decisions. Castiel looked over at Dean, who was filling Magdalena in on the whole Samandriel episode. His decisions about Dean, he felt no guilt over. Anything done for Dean had been worth it.

"Well, we're halfway there." Sam's voice pulled Castiel out of his reverie with a snap. The younger Winchester picked up the glass full of Crowley's blood. "He may be an Old God, but he's still the Leader of Fallen Man, so it fits."

"Now we just need the Alpha's blood, right?" Adam asked.

"Yup." Dean answered.

There was a knock at the door. Sam started, unsure how to react, but Dean walked right over and yanked it open. A tall, sturdy man walked in, one that Magdalena and Adam (and Christine, for that matter) had never seen before. Castiel and Sam recognized him immediately. Sam's face was close to murderous before he schooled it into a carefully neutral expression. The man and Dean exchanged a quick one-armed hug before joining the others. Although the relationship was obviously completely platonic, it was also evident that this man and Dean were extremely close.

"Adam, Magdalena," Dean announced. "This is Benny. Benny, my half-brother Adam, and Castiel's…" He fumbled. "Well, I'm not sure."

"Younger sister will suffice." Castiel decided.

"I was thinking lost puppy." Dean joked.

Benny nodded to Adam and Magdalena, then went over to Castiel. "Glad to see you're in one piece." The vampire said. He and Castiel shook hands, their expressions showing respect if not friendliness.

"Sam." Benny nodded at the final member of the party.

"Benny." Sam's voice was unusually stiff.

The two angels and Adam looked confusedly at the usually easygoing Winchester, then at the new arrival, and back again. Adam seemed to reach the decision that it was none of his business and settled back into his chair. Magdalena looked at Sam worriedly, and Castiel gave Dean a very distinctive look. Dean knew that one. It was the _we are going to have a talk_ look. He was pretty sure Sam had taught Cas that one. That and the puppy eyes.

"So what's this all about?" Benny asked, turning to Dean. "You were pretty vague over the phone."

"The thing is…" Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "It's a lot to ask, I'm not denying that. But we're kind of out of options, so…"

"We need your help in killing the Alpha Vampire." Sam cut in, his eyes challenging.

Benny sized Sam up, and then nodded. "All right then." He agreed.

Dean grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "We appreciate it."

"Yeah." Sam's eyes were hard and his jaw was clenched so tightly the bone was standing out against his skin, making his face harder and more defined. "We really appreciate it."

Castiel and Magdalena exchanged ominous glances. This reminded them of another sibling rivalry they'd witnessed, and that one had ended in the near-destruction of Heaven and the creation of demons. This could not go well.

Even Adam, who'd been raised as a single child, knew a storm was brewing.

"Let the pissing contest begin." He muttered.

Slipping past Magdalena's control, Christine laughed.

**I love Benny. I really do. That guy is a B-A-D BADASS. I just had to include him. And, and, the character development it provided for Sam was just too rich a gold mine to pass up. I mean, really – Benny/Sam. Talk about parallels. (And ANDREA. JESS AND ANDREA. Just shoot me because I am DONE.)**

**How are you all liking the flashback format? Too much? Not enough? I'm trying to space it out like the SPN writers would over various episodes (because unless it's Agatha Christie I hate extensive reveals via monologue), distributing the pieces evenly, but if it's not working then let me know.**


	9. Chapter 9

**I really, really hope I do a good job portraying Benny. I'm always so nervous when I write characters for the first time.**

"I can't believe we're going to kill the Alpha!" Magdalena was squirming in her seat again. "I've never seen a vampire before – other than Benny, but I don't think he counts."

"He counts, all right." Sam assured her. Sam was driving the Impala with Adam in the passenger seat and Magdalena in the back. Benny was leading them in his car, with Dean and Castiel riding along.

Magdalena made an exasperated noise. "I don't see why you're so harsh with him. Dean obviously trusts him."

Sam didn't reply, staring resolutely ahead of him.

Magdalena was not impressed. "Pull over."

Sam ignored her.

"Pull over, Sam."

Once again, Sam ignored her.

The car swerved suddenly, causing Adam to brace himself against the passenger door. Sam wrestled with steering wheel but the Impala refused to obey, stubbornly flying off the road and landing in a wide patch of grass on the side, where the engine promptly died.

Sam turned around and glared at Magdalena, who was bracing herself against the seat, her face pale and sweaty.

"That… took a lot of Grace." She admitted, sounding a little out of breath.

"Just what was that for?" Sam demanded.

"What do you think?" Magdalena fired back. "You're acting completely out of character!"

The two glared at each other until Adam cleared his throat. "Maybe you two should take this outside the vehicle?"

Without looking at him, the angel and the hunter exited the car, slamming the doors behind them. Adam breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

Sam stalked off until he was about twenty feet from the car, Magdalena following.

"I don't know what's up with you and Benny, but it has to stop." Magdalena insisted. "Whatever he did…"

"He didn't do anything. It's what he might do."

"And what might he do? Help us? Because I'll confess I know absolutely nothing about vampires but I'm sure taking on the Alpha is no easy task." Magdalena replied.

"He drinks _blood_, Magdalena. He could snap at any moment, he could hurt Dean or…"

"Dean trusts him, Sam – can't you trust that?"

"I'm not trusting a vampire."

"I meant trust _Dean_. Trust his judgment!"

"Dean doesn't always have the best judgment, Magdalena!"

"You know there's no love lost between your brother and me but seriously, Sam, you have to–"

"It's an addiction, Magdalena. It doesn't ever go away. No matter what you do or how much you consume you always want more, you always _need_ more, and one day it's going to destroy you."

"All I'm asking is that you trust your brother's choices."

"I can't!"

"Why not!"

"Because he fucking trusted me and look what I did!"

Sam's chest was heaving as if he'd just run a race. He blinked to hold back the tears stinging his eyes. Dean had trusted him, and what had Sam done? He'd gone behind his brother's back and given into his thirst. What was more, he'd trusted in Ruby the way Dean seemed to trust in Benny – minus the romance, of course – totally and completely, despite the evil of their kind. He couldn't help but worry that Dean would be betrayed in the same fashion.

Magdalena sighed and gazed out into the darkness. "I don't know how to do this." She admitted. "Castiel… he always seems to know what to say to Dean but I don't know what to say to you."

Sam snorted. "Well, he and Dean do have a 'profound bond'."

Magdalena glared at him. "You made a mistake before."

"It was more than a mistake, Magdalena."

"You did some things that weren't so great. Big fucking deal." Magdalena overrode him. "From what I hear, the both of you Winchesters have screwed up a lot. But last I checked, that was a part of being human. Every single creation makes mistakes and screws up, even my Father. In fact, I think He's the biggest screw-up of all. That doesn't make you a bad person, Sam. It doesn't make you a monster. You've grown since then, haven't you? And so has Dean."

"You don't know him like I do. Dean has this… blind faith in the people he cares about. If you're family, then you can do no wrong."

"But if you keep going down this road, then all Dean is going to see is you not trusting him." Magdalena cautioned. "Trust yourself, Sam. And trust your brother." She paused, then added ruefully, "And if nothing else, trust Cas. He and Benny might respect each other but I doubt he'd miss out on an opportunity to smite the guy."

Sam gave a growl of frustration and kicked at the dirt. Magdalena had a point – a very good one.

"Fine." He chewed the word for a minute before spitting it out.

"Wow. So agreeable."

They headed back towards the car. "That vessel of yours is giving you a mighty snarky attitude." Sam commented.

"I was always snarky." Magdalena replied. "I just didn't know how to show it."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

_In all of the uproar over celebrities (rest in peace, Gwyneth Paltrow) suddenly dying or vanishing, everyone sort of forgets about Public Enemy Number One. He lets himself drift back onto the map but he doesn't put down roots, just floating along like a lazy wind or ambitious tumbleweed._

_After he makes the call to Garth, though, he decides he might stay awhile. He's in some small Pleasantville, without a Wal-Mart or other big chain store in sight. He's not in the middle of nowhere, but he can see it from here._

_He putters around for a day or two, getting his bearings and a feel for the place. It's just big enough that if you keep your head down, you won't become too familiar to too many people, and if you want to avoid someone you can manage it. It gives him a tug in his gut, a kind of churning almost-hunger. It reminds him of the thirst for demon blood, and that scares him._

_He likes it here. He likes the atmosphere, the people, the sheer normalcy… and he desires it. And he's learned that when he desires something, it's either bad or ends in disaster. He gets into the Impala and drives out of there as fast as he can, and he's so caught up in these dangerous thoughts that he hasn't let himself have since Stanford and Jess that he doesn't see the shape darting across the road until he hits it._

_Then it's fuck and screw-up and shit, shit, shit, and praying frantically out of habit that the poor guy's going to make it, turning around and driving back towards the vet clinic he found in his exploration of the town. He goes about three times the speed limit but he's sure to get the sympathies of any state trooper who wants to pull him over. The dog's barely breathing, fuck, and that's definitely blood._

_He paces back and forth in the lobby while the vet takes care of the dog. It's just another tally mark; another entry in a long list of innocent lives caught in his crossfire, and it's just a damn dog._

_It doesn't matter – he still feels like utter shit._

_The vet comes out, informs him the dog's all right._

"_He's going to make it. Poor thing's underfed, a stray, but he's a trooper. He should be able to walk in a day, if not by morning."_

_Sam can't help it; he hugs the woman. He immediately realizes how awkward it is and pulls back, mumbling an apology. She just smiles and tells him it's the stress, happens all the time._

_He didn't really get a good look at her before, too busy not letting his eyes water over the mutt, but she's actually quite pretty. There's a homegrown look about her – apple-pie life, as Dean would say. She's got the darkest, curliest pile of hair he's ever seen, laughing eyes that crinkle at the corners, and a wide, warm mouth. She says to call her Amelia._

_And you can call him smitten._

::::::::::::::::::::::

"I've been waiting to come back here." Dean admitted with a kind of fierce jubilance.

Sam felt the same way. They both wanted to finish what they'd started, finally gank this asshole and eliminate another threat to humanity, but they were more than a little rushed for time last year and hadn't had the chance.

Now they had a vampire, two angels, and a third man with them. Ignoring the fact that Sam didn't trust the vampire, Castiel and said vampire only tolerated one another for Dean's sake, the second angel of the party had no wings and was almost drained of Grace, and the third man was a teenager who had only just learned how to shoot a sawed-off, it was pretty impressive. And hey, compared to just the two of them last year, this was a fucking army.

"We have to make sure that we don't lose any of the blood. We still have to collect some of it." Castiel reminded them.

Sam wasn't about to forget something like that, but Adam might if the kid freaked out, and Benny and Dean certainly would if they got their dander up and started going chainsaw massacre on every vampire in the place.

"Well, here goes nothing." Dean said, pulling on the lapels of his jacket.

::::::::::::::::::::::::

_Life is an addiction._

_It is essential to your existence. You cannot exist without it, cannot function or survive without it. It is the way of things._

_Your way of life is an addiction._

_You become set in those ways, in that pattern, ingrained in it and you don't want it to change. You like it, enjoy it, and you depend upon it. It is a part of you, and you begin to define yourself by your life and its patterns instead of your character. You're the guy who fixes up houses. You're the owner of Riot, one extremely exuberant dog. You're the man that wakes up, gets the paper from the front step, eats a salad for work instead of a meatball sub, and comes home in time to help his girlfriend cook dinner. Sometimes, you take her out – usually on a Friday – to one of the local restaurants. You catch a couple films, good ones, ones that make you discuss things. You're the man that watches reruns of The X-Files every Tuesday at nine, fills the detergent halfway so it won't overflow and clog the washing machine, and jogs six miles a day._

_You're the man that Amelia loves, and you love her right back, even if you're too scared and stupid to say it out loud._

_You're still an addict, all right – you just traded one kind of drug for another._

_And deep down inside where your fears and nightmares and guilt reside, you know it can't last._

:::::::::::::::::::::::

The nest was dark, as usual, but not guarded, which set the group on high alert.

"Do you think they've surrounded us?" Dean whispered.

"I don't sense any others around." Benny noted.

"I agree – there aren't any vampires in the near vicinity." Castiel confirmed.

Next to Sam, Magdalena was tense. With excitement or fear, Sam couldn't tell, but he suspected it was a little of both. Finally getting to have adventures like your big brother, and realizing just how much you wanted to wet your pants? Yeah, Sam had been there.

A figure stepped out of the manor and began walking through the darkness. At first all that Sam could see was an impression of white, like a fluttering handkerchief, but then the figure drew closer and he saw that it was a girl in a white summer dress, barefoot, her hair free and blowing gently in the soft breeze.

"Emily." Dean growled the name.

Sam nodded in the affirmative.

"We know you're here." Emily called out. "We've been expecting you."

They all exchanged glances. Dean looked at Sam, then gave Cas a reassuring nod. Benny's gaze flicked from Dean to Sam and back again, while Magdalena was alternating between Castiel and Sam, puppy eyes begging for reassurance. Adam stared at Emily apprehensively, then glanced at his half-brothers. Castiel just stared at Dean the entire time, his gaze unwavering.

"Okay then." Dean swallowed. "I guess we'll just… go in."

He stood up, Castiel immediately standing to follow him. Benny rose slowly to his feet, adjusting the cap on his head. Dean waited for Sam to stand, watching him, waiting for him to be ready. Once they were all together Dean gave Sam a nod, and they started moving forward.

Emily smiled as if they were guests she had invited for tea. "There are more of you than we expected." She said lightly. Her gaze alighted upon Adam and Magdalena. "I see you've brought young ones this time."

Dean seriously looked ready to punch the girl, and Sam couldn't altogether blame him, but he was a bit more sympathetic to Emily's situation than his older brother was. Again, he was reminded of Ruby, and by extension Lucifer. He supposed he'd be forever reminded of them.

::::::::::::::::::::::

_He really should tell her the truth._

_He knows it, has arguments with himself about it when he walks Riot in the evenings, but no amount of self-chastising or shame-on-you looks from his dog have managed to help him take that final step._

_He's so terrified that she'll leave him._

_Jess… Jess wasn't going to know because he was completely shedding the person he had once been. He was keeping the same name, because legalities are a bitch, but he wasn't going to be the same Sam Winchester anymore. It was fine to keep Jess out of it because he was pretending that the entire first half of his life didn't exist._

_Amelia is different._

_He isn't hiding from himself or casting away who he was. He's making a choice – this wasn't the life he wanted to live anymore. He isn't running. He is choosing. Loving someone meant sharing every part of yourself, right? Look at Dean and Cas, for instance… not that the stubborn bastards were ever going to admit to anything… but any fool with a pair of eyes could see they'd fallen head over heels (or head over wings) for each other. They'd seen the worst in each other – Hell, they'd backstabbed, deceived, lied to, hurt, punished, and beaten the living crap out of each other – and still, that devotion had never ceased. They'd seen the good, the bad, and the downright ugly, and they still cared about each other with a fierceness that was admirable and slightly terrifying._

_So why can't he do the same with Amelia?_

_He loves her, knows he does, even if he can't always bring himself to say it. He wants her to know who he really is, not these half-truths. Amelia, like Ellen and Jody, has a very good bullshit meter. She knows there are things he's keeping from her. She's hinted that she saw his face on the national news, so she probably assumes it has something to do with ending up at the top of the FBI's Most Wanted list, but she doesn't pry._

_He wants to tell her. He does._

_Then why can't he?_

_He's a coward, that's why. He's finally getting a shot at the life he always wanted. It's not the high-paying attorney position he dreamed of at college but it's normal, and safe, and simple, and that's all that he really wants, especially at this stage of his life. He is so scared that if he tells her the truth she'll think he's crazy and leave, possibly bursting into tears and calling the nearest mental ward while she's at it. He can't lose Amelia. He can't lose another person in his life, especially not to something so stupid as the truth._

_But what if she does stay?_

_What if she listens and accepts and includes it all into her perception of him, into her life and her heart?_

_It's a terrible, terrible cliff he's on the edge of, and they're moving too fast while they're at it, living together and having her dad over and sharing a dog (which he really shouldn't have adopted because he knows jack shit about dogs but it's too late now and he loves the sorry animal) and he's in too deep._

_There's something in her eyes when she warns him about how to act around her dad, coupled with her fluttering, tentative behavior – so unlike the calm, strong woman he loves – that sets him on edge. The way her father tells her to come home in a stage whisper, knowing Sam can hear but pretending he doesn't. Racking his brain and realizing that Amelia really hasn't told him that much about her old man past the age of seven._

_His treacherous mind conjures up John Winchester, and he stamps down the thought. She's just eager for her dad to accept this new man in her life. The guy's being protective, that's all._

_But again, he wishes he'd told her. Maybe if she knew just what he'd faced, what he'd overcome, what he was capable of, she'd feel safe enough to tell him everything. Maybe he'd know if he needs to storm into the dining room and tell her father to get the hell out of his house or if he should relax and focus on getting beer._

_Tonight. He'll tell her tonight._

_And then the phone rings and his world comes crashing down about his ears once again and he thinks Sam Winchester, you are the stupidest idiotic asshole to ever walk the face of this earth._

::::::::::::::::::::::::

"I see you brought the cavalry this time." The Alpha was as big of a dick as Sam remembered.

By cavalry, the Alpha meant Adam and Magdalena. Benny and Castiel had disappeared to deal with any other vampires lurking about the nest. Magdalena was looking the vampire up and down with what could only be labeled as extreme curiosity. Adam looked characteristically hesitant. Being trapped between two warring archangels for the past couple of years would do that to a guy.

"I hope we didn't disappoint." Dean was putting on the cocky attitude.

"I've been looking forward to this meeting." The Alpha remained calm, refusing to buy into Dean's bluster.

"I'll bet you have." Dean replied. Sam could almost hear the _kinky son of a bitch_ joke that his brother was just smart enough not to voice.

"Interestingly enough, we seem to have had the same thought." The Alpha continued.

"And what's that?"

Magdalena made sound that would have been a growl if it weren't so surprised. "Damn this lack of Grace." She hissed. "These human senses are so dull!"

Sam was going to ask what she meant, but then several vamps – at least six – stepped into the room, their eyes cold and glittering.

"I brought my own cavalry." The Alpha explained, almost apologetically.

Adam gripped his weapon so hard the kid's knuckles were white and shaking. Magdalena had a look on her face that Sam usually saw on himself or Dean – the look of someone mentally smacking themselves repeatedly.

"I think those two can be eliminated." The Alpha said, nodding towards Adam and Magdalena. "But the Winchesters…"

"Don't even think about it." Dean growled.

The Alpha gave him a smirk.

This seemed to be the signal the other vampires were waiting for, as they moved with the swiftness only the supernatural could muster. Adam, to his credit, hefted his weapon in defense but Magdalena was faster, spinning as she whipped out the archangel blade. She nailed the first vamp, cutting right into his side, and Sam saw some entrails spill out. Nice.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him towards the ground. Sam twisted as he fell, catching himself with his hands. He turned to face his assailant. The vamp grinned at him grotesquely, the smile turning to a grimace of pain as the creature howled, staring down at the blade protruding from its chest. The blade retracted and the vampire's head was separated from its body at an inhuman rate, the cranium bouncing and rolling onto the floor.

Benny reached out a hand, offering it to Sam. The younger Winchester took it and hauled himself up.

"Watch yourself." Benny warned, not unkindly.

Sam could only stare as the vampire turned to face another one of his kind.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

_He's lost her._

_Partly to Don, partly to his own stupid pigheadedness and lack of honesty, but the reasons don't matter too much at the moment. He's a little too busy banging his head against a wall in self-punishment._

_He thought of Jess for a long time. He thought of Ruby for a long time. But he's not ever going to stop thinking about Amelia, because she's alive and out there and he knows that no demon or apocalypse is to blame. He is._

_He briefly wonders if Dean ever felt like this. He knows that his older brother would take Baby out and drive for miles in the dark, returning just as the black was turning to gray and no explanation except for suspiciously red-rimmed eyes. Now it's Sam driving, eating up the road, letting the vibrations of the engine force the emotions out of him, like he's purging himself._

_Maybe he is._

_He doesn't want to go back, but it seems like it's all he has left. He feels so empty and worn and tired, and all he wants is to forget it all._

_For a wild moment, he wants to be back at Stanford._

_While Dean may have often lamented that his hard-taught lessons never sank in – whether they were regarding hunting, manliness or members of the opposite sex – one thing that Sam has learned all too well is the art of shoving your emotions down, down, down to the very bottom of your stomach. Shut 'em up and lock 'em up tight, then pretending they don't exist. Knowing that if you acknowledge them, you're going to fall apart and while that's all well and good for some people, the Winchesters have never been good at figuring out how to put themselves back together._

:::::::::::::::::::

Adam was beginning to hit his stride in the vamp-fighting business, moving without training or real skill but with strength and conviction. Magdalena seemed to have about the same strength and speed as the vampires, her limited Grace only empowering her so much. Sam remembered that the angel had gaping wounds in her vessel – in her very being – that were most likely causing her great pain as she twisted about and swung her blade.

Dean and Cas had opted to double-team it, slowly but surely carving their way through to the Alpha. Sam ducked to avoid a swipe from a vamp, smashing the monster's jaw and forcing it to swallow its teeth. When he looked up again, a few of the vamps had figured out that the angel and elder Winchester were a duo and had shifted strategy accordingly, focusing on separating the two. They succeeded, too, cutting Cas off from Dean. The hunter advanced on the Alpha, completely unaware that his angel no longer had his back.

A vampire came for Sam again, forcing him to focus on saving his own skin. He heard a shout and Castiel's scream of "Dean!" and what sounded like two bodies hitting the floor. He stabbed the vamp in the chest and turned to look.

Cas had Dean pinned against the ground, albeit unintentionally. If Sam were to hazard a guess, he'd say that Cas had tackled Dean in an attempt to remove him from harm's way, and they had ended up banging heads.

And the Alpha…

The Alpha's body was kneeling on the floor, as if he were about to launch into prayer. His head was currently clutched in the hand of none other than Benny, who was splattered with blood and looking mighty calm considering the circumstances.

"Just like ol' times." The vampire drawled. From the floor, Dean gave a weak chuckle. Castiel said something that indicated he wasn't amused, but his face was smashed under Dean's arm so it came out too muffled to understand.

To Sam's shock, the fighting around them ceased as the other vampires – the few that were left, anyway – stared at Benny with awe and dismay.

"Daddy?"

Sam had no idea where she'd appeared from, but suddenly Emily was there, in her deceptive dress of white linen. She stared at the dead Alpha, her eyes brimming. "Daddy?" She repeated, a child lost in the woods.

Benny tossed the Alpha's head at Emily before nodding towards Magdalena. "You got that canteen on you?"

Magdalena withdrew the canteen from where she'd had it slung underneath her army jacket and walked across the room, gingerly stepping over dead bodies to hand it to him. Benny uncapped the canteen and carefully filled it with the blood still flowing languidly from the Alpha's severed neck. He replaced the cap and handed it back to Magdalena, who took it carefully, swallowing down a lump of bile.

"Alpha?" One of the vampires asked, slowly.

Everyone looked at the creature, who stuttered and started again. It was focused on Benny. "Are you the new Alpha, then?"

Sam blinked. He remembered reading somewhere that any vampire that killed the Alpha now had the right to become the new Alpha, at least in leadership.

Here it was. Benny was going to say yes, and Dean was going to be crushed, and…

"Not on your life." Benny drawled, his blade flashing in the light for a moment as he flung it at the vampire. The monster fell with a dull thud, landing on its back.

For some reason, Benny was staring at Sam, who stared right back. So the vampire had passed his test, while Sam had not.

Well, now they knew who the stronger man was. It was a bitter thought, and uncalled for, but he let it manifest itself anyway.

"Guys?"

Magdalena held up the canteen, fresh blood coating the top. "We have all three, now." She said.

They finished off the vampires and left Emily to cradle the head of the Alpha.

It was time to turn the tide of war.

**I originally didn't expect to have anything from Sam's point of view, but what can I say? The moose snuck up on me. I'm trying to wrap this all up as quickly as I can. So far I've at least seven more chapters to go. Could someone explain how I got sucked into all of this?**

**Demon blood is black, Cas's tie is blue, glad you're reading this, would you mind reviewing too? (I am stupidly proud of that rhyme.)**


	10. Chapter 10

**I know, I know, it's been a while, but I've been in Europe! Without a computer! ...oh. That's not a good excuse, you say? Well then, I must offer up my sincerest apologies.**

**My head feels like Leviathans are trying to escape from it. And yet, I write on! Oh, the sacrifices I make for you lovelies…**

"We'll have to split up." Castiel explained for what felt like the hundredth time.

"No. No fucking way." Dean emphasized, also for what felt for the hundredth time.

"Adam has to complete the trials. We have to build a device to project the bones among the Leviathan. I am expected back in Heaven to lead the Host in battle against the demons." Castiel explained, an edge of frustration fraying his patient tone. "We cannot complete these tasks in a linear fashion. There's not enough time. Therefore, we have to split up."

Dean made a sound that sounded like a bark-growl hybrid, flinging a hand up in some kind of aborted movement.

Castiel's voice lowered. "We have no other choice, Dean."

Dean sent Castiel a glare that both of them knew he didn't mean, and turned to Sam. "What do you think?"

"Wow, you're actually asking one of us for our opinion." Sam said, allowing plenty of incredulous sarcasm to coat his words. The angel and his brother had been arguing for over an hour now – since they'd returned to the Men of Letters compound, in fact – forcing the rest of them to just sit there and suffer through it. Adam was pinching himself to stay awake, straining to learn which way the wind was blowing. Magdalena had collapsed about fifteen minutes ago and was sprawled half on the table, twitching occasionally in her sleep. Benny was standing at the far end of the room, his back against a bookshelf, his arms folded and his cap pushed low over his eyes. Sam couldn't tell if the guy was asleep or not. He thought he heard the vampire let out a chuckle about half an hour ago, but he couldn't be certain.

Dean gave Sam a death glare. And he said that Sam was the one with the bitch faces? "Yeah, Sammy, we're seeking your professional advice." The elder Winchester replied, his voice dripping with even more sarcasm than Sam's.

Sam glanced over at Benny, who gave no sign of living, much less putting in his two cents. Both Castiel and Dean were looking at him expectantly. Taking a deep breath, Sam plunged in.

"I agree with Castiel."

Dean looked ready to punch Sam's teeth straight down his throat. Sam planted his feet, standing firm.

"There's no way we're going to win this thing otherwise, and you know it." He insisted.

"We can't." Dean's voice didn't break – it never broke – but it had taken on that deep, gravelly quality, like it was a board with weight after heavy weight put on it, straining it almost to the breaking point. "There's too much that could go wrong. Adam's so wet behind the ears he's dripping, Magdalena here is practically human, and–" Dean cut himself off, turning his head away and staring at the opposite wall. He didn't turn away fast enough for Sam to miss the crushing guilt in his brother's eyes. If anything happened to Magdalena, Dean would feel responsible for the death of an innocent. If anything happened to Benny, Dean would go on a manhunt, cutting through any body of flesh that got in his way. If anything happened to Sam, Dean would go ballistic.

Sam didn't even want to think about what would happen if Cas died.

Furthermore, Dean seemed strangely protective of Adam as well. Sure, the kid was technically family, and Sam sure didn't want to see the guy come to harm. He wished like Hell–

Okay, bad analogy.

The last thing he wanted was for Adam to have to go through what he did, and he didn't want the kid to be thrust into the Life, but the shielding that Dean seemed eager to provide seemed not only intense but guilt-ridden.

Sam didn't remember much about what happened between the Michael-Lucifer smackdown and being brought back, but he knew that if it weren't for Dean, he'd have been stuck in the Cage just as Adam had been. What if…

What if Dean had made a Sophie's choice?

Sam swallowed hard. Dean had a guilt complex like nothing on this earth, and if his brother felt responsible for Adam's… incarceration, so to speak, than Sam knew that Dean would never live it down.

"Look, I know that you're worried about us."

Dean snorted as if to say that he didn't give a damn about their sorry hides. Sam pushed on.

"But we're going to be fine. You can't protect everyone all the time. I can look after Adam and Magdalena. I think you three," He nodded towards Castiel, Dean and Benny, "Proved in Purgatory that you all can handle yourselves."

"You're saying that you, Adam and featherless over here are going to do the trials while we fight World War Three?" Dean still refused to look at anyone.

"Yeah." Sam nodded.

"That still leaves someone to set off our 'bomb'." Castiel interjected, using air quotes on the last word. Dean got an amused glint in his eyes as he watched the angel.

"I can do that." Benny drawled.

Sam mentally kicked himself. Of course the vampire wasn't asleep. His instincts were getting rusty.

Dean didn't say anything, but the look he shared with Benny spoke volumes. Castiel, however, lacked the battlefield camaraderie that Dean and Benny seemed to share, and spoke his thoughts.

"It might be a suicide mission." The angel explained. "Even if you aren't caught by the Leviathans, the 'bomb'" Again, he did the air quotes, "Might go off before you can reach a safe minimal distance."

Benny made a sound that Sam supposed roughly translated to _no shit_.

"So it's settled." Sam announced.

"Wha…?" Magdalena raised her head, blinking slowly like a cat. "Hmm?"

"Settled." Dean nodded, his jaw clenching violently. "Gotcha." He stormed out, his bedroom door closing with a sound just below a bang.

Benny glanced back in the direction of Dean's room, then slid his eyes over to Castiel. The angel nodded at Sam. "There is an item or two that we still need to procure, so we'll be leaving in the morning. You can leave whenever you'd like."

"We'll head out at…" Sam glanced at Adam, who was struggling to stay awake, and Magdalena, who wasn't even trying and had fallen asleep again. "At six." He decided.

Castiel stared at him for a moment, and then turned to go, gracing Benny with a nod as he passed. The vampire looked over at Sam, sizing him up again. This time, Sam had the feeling that the guy wasn't looking him over to get the measure of his character, so much as wondering what his fate was.

"Tomorrow we're… heading out?" Adam asked, swallowing. Poor kid was trying not to let his hesitance show. Sam grinned in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

"Yeah. And don't worry about the trials – we'll be with you every step of the way." Sam told him. "You'd better get some sleep."

"Feel free to use my car." Benny offered, his voice flowing like thick honey. "I doubt Dean'll part with the Impala."

Sam's lips flickered into a grin despite himself. "Dean talk a lot about Baby in Purgatory?"

Benny chuckled. "Pretty much the only thing he'd talk about. That car and pie."

"Not about Cas?" Sam asked.

He regretted the words the minute they'd flown free. Benny gave a grin that was all teeth and no joy.

"Must've murmured that name more'n a hundred times. Never knew who or what that name meant until I actually met the man." Benny noted. He nodded once, slowly, at Sam, as if he'd given – or found – the answer to a question. "Good luck." He drawled once more before sauntering past them and disappearing.

Adam stood up slowly and headed off into the room that Sam had set up for him. Sam bent down and shook Magdalena's shoulder gently.

"C'mon, Lana – wake up."

Magdalena stirred slowly, her head lolling groggily. Sam gave up trying to rouse her and scooped her up, carrying her over to the couch and laying her down, spreading a blanket over her. The young angel immediately curled up, snuggling into the blanket. Sam could see the bloodstains on the back of her shirt, running in two thin parallel vertical lines. How much longer would her wounds remain open? Could her true form repair itself, or would she forever carry these open gashes, her Grace either leaking out or drained as her form struggled to rebuild?

Sam pulled the blanket further up her body, covering the wounds, and headed off to bed himself. They had an early start tomorrow.

Starting tomorrow, they were hunting a hellhound.

:::::::::::::::::::::

"Dean?"

Castiel's voice was low and quiet, but Dean heard it anyway. He rolled over on the bed so that he was facing the angel.

"Look, Cas, I'm tired. It's been a long however many hours. Can you just… come here and shut up?" He extended an arm, gesturing lazily for Cas to join him.

Castiel shucked off his trench coat and made to join Dean in the bed. "Nuh-uh." Dean shook his head, smirking. "See me?" He pointed towards himself. Dean was wearing nothing but his boxers, having stripped and sunk into his (totally awesome memory-foam) bed.

Cas, thank Whoever, got the message and divested himself of the rest of his clothing with only an annoyed huff, crawling into bed beside Dean. The hunter grabbed at Cas, pulling him closer and wrapping an arm around the man's waist so that they were pressed back to chest. Cas, Dean had noticed, had the strange ability to fall asleep (when he so chose) in less than a second, going from alert and awake to boneless and snoring in no time flat. But although Cas relaxed against Dean and allowed the hunter to bury his nose in the short dark hair at the back of his neck, he didn't go right to sleep.

"Dean?"

Dean gave a huff against Cas's skin. "Sleep, Cas." He droned. "I need my six hours."

"But I feel that we–"

"Can talk about this in the morning. Or another day. Or never." Dean mumbled, trying to slip into sleep.

It was Cas's turn to huff. "Your over-protectiveness and supposed guilt–"

"Cas. Sleep."

He tightened his grip on the angel, spreading out his hand so that it spanned Cas's stomach, reveling in the muscles jumping underneath the skin. Dean brushed his lips just behind Cas's ear. Little by little he felt Cas relax against him, until the angel was deadweight against him and Dean knew he was asleep. Dean shifted a little, pressing himself completely against Cas, trying to touch every inch of him that he could. He let himself focus on Cas, and only Cas, as he drifted off.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

When Dean woke up, he thought he was back in Purgatory. There was a sense of something missing, something that should be there but wasn't, and he reached out into the dark. Gone… a part of him was gone… No, not a part of him, not exactly… what was it?

He groped about blindly, reaching for whatever he was missing, and felt a presence draw near.

"Dean."

That voice. That voice belonged to whatever was missing. Dean blinked slowly and opened his eyes, his sight slowly adjusting to the dark. Cas was standing by the bed, dressed and ready to go. Dean blinked again, reaching out for Cas.

"What're you doing up?" He mumbled, his throat feeling raw and scratchy.

"Sam just left with the younger ones." Cas informed him. "We should probably get going as well."

"Why?" Dean frowned. "Is it time for war? Is the bomb ready?"

Cas just stared at him. Dean sighed and clambered out of bed, pulling on his jeans.

"We have an item we must acquire." Cas explained. "You cannot simply stride into Heaven's camp as a human, especially because of who you are."

Dean snorted. "Who says I can't? Might give 'em a good scare." He grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

Cas gave no indication that he heard him. "We must obtain the Armor of God. When a man is wearing it, he will appear as an angel in battle form, as well as possessing the equivalent strength and superhuman prowess. The angels will not recognize you."

Dean grabbed a shirt from the floor and yanked it over his head. "How long will that take? Where is it?"

Castiel sighed. "The armor was among the artifacts that Balthazar stole. We'll have to uncover his cache of hidden items."

"And do you know where that is?" Dean asked.

"I have an idea."

Dean stretched, feeling his spine crack. "Let's get started, then."

:::::::::::::::::::::::

"Which exit do we take?" Sam asked.

Magdalena flipped the map over, examined it, flipped it over again, scrunched the paper, tilted her head and squinted, and extended the map out as far as it could go.

"You'll want exit 35a." She announced.

"You sure about that?" Sam asked.

Magdalena peered at the map. "Yup."

"How are we supposed to find this hellhound, anyway? Is there a special place where they congregate?" Adam asked, his fingers twitching in his lap.

"Sort of. We're headed to the home of a family that's become rather wealthy rather quickly." Sam explained. "They found oil where, well, there shouldn't be any. That suggests a deal with a Crossroads Demon. Now, this particular oil patch was discovered ten years ago, which means that it's time to collect the soul of whoever made the deal. Hellhounds are the ones who come and… how would you put it, Magdalena?"

Magdalena shrugged. "They drag the person to Hell?"

Adam looked a little pale. Sam rolled his eyes at Magdalena, who shrugged, her eyes wide and innocent.

"Look," Sam said, glancing back at Adam through the rearview mirror. "All we have to do is figure out which person made the deal, and hang around them until the hound shows up. We kill the hound, ta-da, first task accomplished and a sort-of innocent life saved."

"And just how do you propose we get in good with the family?" Magdalena asked, tilting her head in a searching way that reminded Sam of Castiel.

Sam grinned. "They live on a ranch. Places like that always need more hands to help out. Adam and I are brothers, and you are…"

"Whoa now. I can't be your sister. I don't look like either of you." Magdalena pointed out.

This was true. Aside from the shockingly red hair, her facial features didn't match either man in the slightest.

"You're my daughter. You take after your mother, God rest her soul." Sam intoned jokingly.

Magdalena looked him up and down. "How old were you when you had me? Eleven?" She said sarcastically. "You're barely thirty, and my vessel is nineteen."

"I could be older." Sam argued.

"I'm pretty sure this is the first time anyone over the age of twenty-five was trying to look _older_…" Adam chuckled. This earned him a glare from Sam.

"Nobody's going to care that much about us, as long as we work hard and we keep our heads down. People tend to ignore the second class, seeing only the uniform and not the face."

"Thank you for the lesson on society, Mr. Stanford." Magdalena replied. Sam looked over at her and she put her hands up in defeat. "All right, I'm your daughter."

Silence settled over the car for a few minutes, before Magdalena got another snarky idea.

"This means I can be disrespectful and bratty towards you, right?"

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

Dean eyed the decrepit church with his typical suspicion. Years of experience had taught him to never underestimate what might lie within a building, no matter how holy or innocent it might seem. Its walls were half covered in thick, creeping ivy, its bricks eroded and uneven from weathering. The door looked ready to fall off its hinges, and the wooden steeple had collapsed a while ago, miraculously not causing the entire roof to fall in. The wooden steps, doorway, and what remained of the steeple had once been white and shining, but had become covered in grime and most the paint had peeled off or chipped away. The cemetery was in even worse condition, which caused Cas no end of frustration. The guy had a thing for respecting the dead and remembering loved ones.

Even getting to the church had been a bit of a hassle, leaving Baby at the side of the dirt road (even calling it a road was being charitable) to follow the barely-there footpath through brambles and thick grass.

"How did Balthazar even find this place?" Dean grumbled, shoving a low-hanging branch out of the way for Cas to pass through. Benny was taking up the rear, keeping silent as usual.

"As messengers of the Lord, angels are instinctively drawn to places dedicated to His worship." Castiel explained. "Balthazar must have thought the combination of holy sanctuary and secure location would be ideal to hide his cache."

"What exactly is this collection you're going on about?" Benny said, finally speaking.

"Balthazar was a member of my garrison, and for a time my closest friend. We had flying lessons together when our wings were strong enough to bear us."

Dean tried to ignore the stab of jealousy at the 'closest friend' bit.

"Like the head of our garrison, Gabriel, Balthazar grew disillusioned with Heaven and fled. He offered for me to go with him, but I refused. He took several precious artifacts when he left, hiding them here and giving them to humans in exchange for other things – what, I'm not certain."

"Wait – he asked you to go with him when he left Heaven?" Dean hadn't heard that part of the story before. "And you said no?"

"I still believed in my siblings, Dean." Cas elucidated. "I did care for Balthazar, but I was not going to give up my principles for a friend."

Dean frowned. Something about that was off. "But you abandoned Heaven – betrayed it, actually – when you were with us. Wasn't that going against your principles?"

"My principles changed, Dean." Cas informed him. "You taught me to believe in something because I wanted to, because it felt right; not because I had grown up with it or because that was the way things were done. You taught me free will and personal responsibility."

A little bit of the guilt that Dean had been carrying around lifted. If Cas had left Heaven, and done all that had come after, because of his personal views and not because he was blindly following Dean, that was a huge load off the hunter's shoulders.

Cas's hand squeezed his shoulder for a moment before releasing, trailing down Dean's arm and brushing against his hand before the angel forged ahead, pushing past the last of the underbrush to reach the clearing where the aged house of God stood, fighting a losing battle against the tide of Time and Nature.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

They'd just killed a hellhound, and all that Sam could think about was how much trouble this Adam-Christine relationship was going to land them in.

During their time helping out on the ranch, Magdalena had taken to letting her human have control of the body they shared. This was for various reasons, ranging from the fact that Christine hadn't exercised properly in years thanks to her cancer and needed to learn how to use her muscles properly again, to the truth of Magdalena's condition and the need to rebuild her Grace and heal, which was easier of the angel was not busy controlling a vessel.

Unfortunately, prolonged exposure to one another had resulted in Adam and Christine developing a heavy crush on one another. With Magdalena, Adam was perfectly normal, and Sam surmised that he treated Magdalena as if she were Christine's twin sister in order to get over the physical sameness of the two girls. But whenever Christine was allowed to be in control of herself, there was laughter, flirting, and distraction from the task at hand.

Now an utterly exhausted Magdalena, having gotten a real beating from the hellhound before it leapt on Adam and was subsequently gored to death (that t-shirt was never going to be properly clean again – they'd have to burn it) had let her control slip and Christine had wrestled to the surface, giving Adam a gigantic hug and letting him whirl her around the barn.

Sam rubbed a hand over his forehead, pulling out the piece of paper with the incantation on it. This was going to be a trial, all right… for his patience.

::::::::::::::::::::::

"I really don't know if this is going to work."

Castiel ignored the protesting Dean in favor of buckling on another piece of the armor. Dean winced as the metal hit his shin, which was still sore from when they'd accidentally set off one of Balthazar's booby traps back at the church (where they had also accidentally caused the floor to collapse).

"The Armor is designed to adjust to fit whoever is wearing it once every piece is in place. You have to give it a minute." Cas replied.

Dean tried to relax and focus on the feeling of Cas's fingers whenever they brushed against his skin, but it was a little difficult with Benny standing there trying to hold in laughter.

"It's not funny." Dean huffed. "I look like an idiot."

"You sure do." Benny drawled. Dean glared at him.

"There." Cas stepped away, nodding. "That should do it."

Dean felt a strange tingle work its way through his body, warm and not entirely unpleasant. He turned towards the full-length mirror that Benny had swiped from Sam's room. He had no idea what he expected to see – maybe a medieval knight sort of thing – but it definitely wasn't _that_.

It was as if his skin was made of smooth, gleaming silver. His face was the same but the rest of his head looked like it was a helmet, strange designs that Dean recognized as Enochian carved into it. His mouth was entirely covered, as if he didn't have one, but he found that he could move it just fine. As he spoke, the metal around that area rippled, and his voice sounded a lot deeper than usual.

"Okay… that's kind of cool." He admitted, examining himself from every angle.

"The design was made to make the wearer look like an angel in battle form." Cas explained. "No one should recognize you, either as a human or as Dean Winchester."

Dean realized that his eyes, although still green, were glowing. He also appeared taller, too – eight feet, in fact, and there were more Enochian symbols on his chest. He turned to ask Cas what they meant and caught the angel staring at him, lips parted slightly and pupils blown wide. Dean grinned, glad that the angel couldn't see him do so while wearing the armor. The hunter leaned in, noticing Benny pointedly looking away as the vampire always had whenever the other two were having a private moment.

"Is this turning you on, Cas?" Dean asked, his voice low and husky.

Cas swallowed, his fingers curling slightly as if he were going to clench them into fists. "Maybe." He replied noncommittally.

Dean's grin widened; that was definitely a _yes_. Hopefully they'd have time to do something about it later, before all Hell (and Heaven and Leviathan) broke loose.

"I guess this means we're ready for battle, huh?" He asked.

Cas nodded. "Yes. We should meet up with the Host."

"You boys have fun." Benny said, tipping his cap in their direction. "I've got a bomb to drop."

Dean walked over and the two clapped hands, giving the classic one-armed bro-hug. "Look after yourself." Dean reminded him.

Benny gave him a look that Dean knew well – it was his _I know what you're thinking _look. "Don't do anything stupid."

He'd said the same thing to Dean when Eve had appeared in Purgatory, when the vampire had seen just how far Dean was prepared to go for his angel, for the mysterious _Cas_ that, up until that moment, had been nothing more than a whispered prayer on the hunter's lips.

"No promises." Dean replied, the same response he'd given before.

Benny nodded and released Dean's hand, sauntering out of the room with nary a sound.

"All right, Cas. Let's get this show on the road." Dean said heavily. He was not looking forward to dealing with any angel other than Cas, and definitely not a whole army of them.

To his surprise, he felt Cas slip a hand into his, intertwining their fingers and clasping tightly. Dean found himself staring right into those impossibly blue eyes, and then they were kissing, slow and sweet like molasses, and Dean could have sworn he felt it all the way down to his bones, throughout his entire body…

Cas pulled away, and Dean shivered as a gust of cold wind hit him. Wait – wind?

"Open your eyes, Dean."

He did so and found them standing in an immense field – so immense, the landscape so unchanging, that he realized they must be somewhere in the Great Plains. Cas had transported them there and Dean hadn't even felt it.

"Can you distract me like that every time?" He asked, only half-teasing.

"Certainly." Cas pecked him on the lips, and Dean felt the angel's hand slip out of his. "Come. The camp isn't far."

The angel started tramping through the grass, and Dean saw what looked like the glow of a thousand fireflies in the distance. The Host of Heaven, preparing for war.

He had a sudden, great yearning to seize Cas's hand in his and squeeze tight, never, ever letting go.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"There aren't any innocent souls in Hell." Adam stated, perplexed. "That's the whole point, isn't it?"

"There are plenty." Magdalena said bitterly. "The Host does not let enough people into Heaven. They're too strict and always arguing about the rules. Michael was too harsh."

"I certainly didn't expect it to look like this." Adam noted.

Hell was certainly more abstract than one would expect, a world of shadows and flame, walls of orange, red and yellow that moved and shifted, dark, smoky _things_ shifting in the corners of your vision, making you certain that something was there, even though when you looked around you were alone. Charred rock, hard and hot to the touch, was the only solid object to stand on. The pieces rose, jagged and harsh, out of the darkness that swirled down below, rising like charcoal among the constant flame. In some places lava – or something that was a lot like it – flowed over the rock, bleeding rivers. In fact… in some places, it was blood. Cells were carved into the rock, the bars thick and spiked, made of something much harder than any metal that man had discovered. Chains and whips dangled, covered in blood, a tangled, taut web of torture. Screams echoed, lingering in the air, shrieks punctuating the constant moans and cries. The sounds came from every direction, making you turn your head constantly as you tried to follow them. The air was thick and choking, making you feel like you never had enough air, burning your eyes and lungs. The deeper down you went, the further into the heart of the flame, until the heat was intense enough to burn you simply by standing there and breathing was impossible. Clothes burst into flame and it felt as though your bones were melting. But once you reached the eye of the hurricane, at the deepest part of the Pit… all was still. All was quiet. And a chill, unstoppable and indescribable, seeped into the body, making it tremble and quiver. Darkness was all around, so dark that not even seething shapes could be seen anymore, and the silence was so absolute it was as if you were completely alone in the world. In that darkness, the flame that burned so hot as to become cold, the fire that burned so bright as to blind and render one in darkness, lay the Cage. And no matter how fast you ran or where you hid, there was always, always the feel that something was watching you, hovering just over your shoulder, creeping down the rock behind you; silent, watchful… waiting.

Sam was in the lead, with Adam in the middle and Magdalena holding up the rear, still in human form to prevent alerting the demons, her archangel sword at the ready.

Another scream, louder than the others, rent the air. Magdalena jumped and Adam visibly flinched. An answering shriek, definitely not human, seemed to reply to the scream, and there was a horrible _crack_ that echoed and echoed in their ears.

"I hate it." Magdalena growled through clenched teeth, gripping the sword tighter. She looked ready to start a one-angel war against all demonkind.

"Stay quiet." Sam whispered, his voice so soft it could barely be heard. "The deeper in we go the more demons there are."

"How do you know this place so well?" Magdalena asked, lowering her voice to match his.

Sam's jaw clenched and unclenched several times before he answered, his eyes deep and hard and his entire face like stone. "Let's just say I've visited a couple of times."

Magdalena frowned in confusion, trying to recall what Castiel had told her about Sam. Her brother had mostly talked about Dean, but surely…

Understanding dawned and she ducked her head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

Sam shrugged, trying to shake off the memories. "You weren't there. You couldn't have known."

"Castiel told me… a bit. He mentioned what you'd gone through."

Sam frowned. "Castiel talk a lot about us, huh?"

"Mostly Dean." Magdalena replied.

Sam snorted with amusement. "Of course he did."

Magdalena blinked. "So… you think so too?"

Sam opened his mouth to laugh, remembered where they were, and stopped himself. "Nobody stares at somebody else like that unless there's something." He explained.

Magdalena smiled, nodding. "Are you talking about Castiel or your brother?"

Sam grinned. "Both."

Adam looked from one to the other, confused. "I'm sorry – what are you talking about? Are you saying Dean and the angel are…?"

"They should be." Sam and Magdalena replied simultaneously.

"Or Dean's going to explode with jealousy; whichever comes first." Sam added.

Adam nodded but his facial expression still showed confusion. "Okay then…"

"Stop." Sam flung out his arm, halting the other two. "We're here."

They carefully picked their way off the main path and down a narrow flight of stairs that were not so much carved out of the rock as grown from it. The formation of the rock above left them cast in shadow once they were halfway down, and they found themselves chilled through their very bones.

After a few minutes they reached a kind of platform, over which one could look out at a particular configuration of chains, covered in spikes and meat hooks, upon which the unfortunate ones hung.

Someone was hanging there now.

"Where's his demon?" Magdalena whispered, referring to the being assigned to torture the soul on the rack.

"Probably getting ready for battle with the others. They just left them all on the racks to hang while they went off to fight. Only a few high-profile souls or those extremely close to breaking will still be attended."

Neither Adam nor Magdalena had to ask how he knew. When you let the devil into your mind, he lets you into his, as well.

Sam didn't let them dwell on it but strode to the edge of the cliff, gazing at the figure stretched out, hanging in the air, his limbs pulled almost to the breaking point, barbed hooks digging into his skin. Every time the person moved, they dug in a little deeper, blood seeping into the clothes and running in slow droplets down the chains.

"Pull on the crank to reel him in." Sam instructed to Adam. The teen ran to the immense crank, using all of his strength to rotate it. Sam watched the small figure draw closer and closer to the rock face.

Magdalena turned towards the cell behind them to read the name carved over the doorway.

_Robert Singer_.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He had no idea how Cas was doing it.

Dean stood just behind the angel's left shoulder, staring out at the rest of the Host, sizing every one of them up. Castiel was playing the part magnificently, outlining the plan of battle for everyone. Even Naomi seemed pleased.

Dean ground his teeth as he stared at her. At least now he had a face to match the name. Nobody hurt the people he loved – nobody tried to fucking _brainwash_ them – and got away with it. If she survived the battle, he was going to make her pay. Right now, his priority was taking care of Cas, making sure that nobody suspected the truth and stuck an angel blade in the guy's back.

The whole experience was making Dean completely strung out, his nerves completely frayed from being so tense all day. How Cas could seem so nonchalant, so relaxed and in control, was beyond him.

By the time everyone retired to "rest before glorious victory", as Cas had put it (that had gotten a round of cheers, the arrogant bastards), Dean felt like every one of his muscles had been strung and played like a guitar string.

When Cas made for his tent Dean followed at an appropriate distance, like the bodyguard he was supposed to be (which was how Cas had explained his presence to the others), until they entered through the flap and disappeared from prying eyes.

The moment they were shrouded in the dimness of the tent Cas's shoulders slumped, the commanding air draining out of him. The guy looked exhausted and Dean realized that maybe Cas had been just as stressed as he was, if not more.

"Cas? You okay?" Dean asked, coming forward to lay a hand on the other's shoulder.

Cas nodded, turning and resting his forehead on Dean's chest. "I… did not anticipate how difficult it would be to pretend in front of my brethren like that."

Dean chuckled tiredly, wrapping his arms around the angel's upper back. He didn't nuzzle Cas's cheek, because hunters don't nuzzle. He just… rubbed softly at the stubbly skin with his cheek, that's all.

"We should get you out of the armor. Your skin will need to breathe." Cas advised, stepping back and eyeing Dean.

"You sure? You seem to like me in it." Dean said with a healthy dose of cockiness.

Cas raised an eyebrow. "I'd prefer you in nothing at all, but I'll admit the armor does suit you."

Dean nearly choked on his own tongue.

Cas tactfully ignored Dean's temporary muteness, muttering something in Enochian and tapping the symbols on Dean's chest. Thin fissures appeared, and then the silver skin separated, transforming back into the armor's original form. Cas set about undoing the straps and ties, carefully setting the pieces aside for the morning. Dean stood still, trying not to move a muscle. He wondered if Cas could feel the strange electricity in the air, the added charge that seemed to be crackling in the air between them ever since they'd kissed.

"Yes." Cas replied.

Oh, right. The whole angelic-mojo-reading-minds thing.

"I thought I said to stay out of my head." Dean reminded him, although there was no bite to his rebuke.

"It's rather difficult when your thoughts are screaming so loudly." Cas replied nonchalantly.

"All right then, smartass. What am I thinking now?" Dean asked.

He hoped that Cas didn't notice that he wasn't breathing as he pictured them kissing in the tent. Despite Cas knowing where things stood now, and having acted upon it, Dean was still incredibly nervous about the entire thing. What if he messed up? What if Cas wised up and dumped his sorry ass? What if…

"Dean."

That snapped him out of it.

Cas was looking at him, those blue eyes far too intense to be entirely human, his face open and guileless and perfectly, perfectly _Cas_.

And then he couldn't see Cas anymore, because Cas was kissing him, kissing him so deeply and thoroughly Dean could only hold on and try to keep up. His hands tightened their hold, gripping Cas more tightly than he'd dared to grab any human, knowing the angel's strength could take it. He crushed Cas to him, holding him, making sure there wasn't an inch of space between them.

This was what he'd fought for. This was what he'd carved through Leviathans for. This was what he'd searched Purgatory for. The angel that somehow, for some reason, was stupid enough to love Dean back, to believe in him when no one else did, to carry him when no one else could.

And not even the Mother of all monsters could stand in his way.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

_She's still in human form, her smile enough to make him nauseous. Dean moves instinctively, positioning himself in front of Cas, taking him out of her line of sight. Benny takes a step forward, unsure of what's going on but recognizing the woman in front of them as a monster and ready to deal with her as such._

"_I missed you." Eve says, like a mother after her child is home from summer camp. She seems to see Benny for the first time. "Oh! And you've teamed up with one of them. You can call me Grandmother, if you'd like." This last comment is directed at Benny himself._

_The vampire seems to consider bursting into laughter before settling for just staring unnervingly._

"_What are you doing here?" Dean demands._

"_I'm helping my son, of course." Eve says sweetly._

"_I'm not your son." Dean snarls._

"_You were, at one point, but that's no matter." Eve waves the issue aside._

"_She means me." Roman steps forward._

_Cas, the nerd, can't help himself. "But the Leviathan were the first creations of God."_

"_Must we delve into this?" Roman looks like a boss who's had an underling question the latest merger._

"_The Leviathan are of the earth, the ooze and the mud." Eve intones. "They were placed in me, and I gave birth to them. But they were seen as unfit and locked up here, and the angels were created using thought. The humans were a mix of the two, made of heaven and earth, their soul being of the angels and their bodies being of the Leviathan. But I never forgot my first children, the only ones given to me by the Creator. And when they escaped, I found them._

"_Most of them rejected me, but their leader understood my use."_

"_She is our mother." Roman explained. "You don't turn your back on family."_

_Dean snorts. "Let's get this over with."_

"_Very well." Roman's smile grows, and then he leaps._

_Dean's not going to say it's an easy fight, because it's not, but at least here in Purgatory they're on even ground; because here, Dick Roman is mortal. Here he can die. And Dean's sent enough Chompers into the arms of Death to know that for a certainty._

_There's an inhuman but definitely female snarl, and Dean senses Benny moving. "Protect Cas!" He shouts. Benny grunts, and there's a clashing sound behind Dean's back that signals the vampire and Eve have locked weapons (or claws, or whatever)._

_And then he can't really pay attention to much of anything, because he's beating back Roman's furious attacks. Dean's got his machete but man does the guy pack a punch. He prays that Cas has the sense to stand back, let Dean take this one, because the guy is far too weak to hold his own right now._

_It's the hardest Dean's fought in however many days since he entered Purgatory, Roman putting up a far bigger fight than any creature Dean's come across in this washed-out wasteland. In fact, for the first time, Dean's not sure he'll be able to beat the guy. If things go south, he just hopes that Cas gets out of there, gets to safety._

_But then Roman makes a fatal mistake. It's the same one he made before, when he had all of his chess pieces lined up so far in advance that he didn't have time to adjust when the game changed. He thinks he's got it all worked out and he gets arrogant, taunting Dean, acting almost laid-back about the whole thing._

"_Don't worry about the angel." He's saying. "I'll make sure to get plenty of use out of him before he dies."_

_The last word has barely left the monster's mouth before Dean's blade connects with the flesh of his neck, biting through muscle and sinew, blood spurting and running down the blade and staining the skin, sending the head flying through the air to land with a soft thump among the dead leaves._

_Eve gives a howl that rattles through Dean's ears, jumping onto Benny's shoulders and pushing off, sending the vampire toppling to the ground. Dean whirls, turning the blade so it's pointed upwards. Eve impales herself on it as she collapses on top of him, sending them both to the ground._

_He manages to shove the corpse off of him, but before he can get himself up there's a hand extended towards him. He grabs it, feels the strength inside, lets it yank him up and set him on his feet. Then he looks up and finds himself staring full into Cas's face._

_And he grips the hand a little bit tighter._

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::

They'd been kissing for so long that Dean was starting to forget that an outside world existed. He didn't care. Cas was limp and pliant against him, his tight grip in Dean's shirt and the movements of his mouth the only indication that he wasn't passed out. Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd been like this, simply soaking in another person's presence, kissing them like they had all the time in the world. In fact, he was pretty sure he never had.

At some point in time – maybe minutes, perhaps hours after they had started – Cas started pulling gently on Dean's shirt, leading him towards the low bed at the back of the tent. It was definitely large enough for two, thankfully. Dean found himself kneeling over Cas, practically straddling him, in fact, bracing himself up on his hands as Cas dug his fingers into Dean's hair, massaging gently at the scalp. Dean wondered why there wasn't more bodily contact, feeling cold without Cas's furnace-level body heat. He remedied this by lowering himself onto Cas, yanking a little at the guy's hips to align their bodies better. This drove their crotches together as well, making Cas give a whimper and bite down on Dean's lip.

"You like that, Cas?" Dean whispered, pressing his hips down onto the angel's and rutting slightly. Cas responded instantly, his hips grinding eagerly against Dean's, and Dean could feel the angel's excitement even through the layers of clothing and Dean's own condition.

"Dean…" The angel's voice, already gravelly by any standards, was now so deep and wrecked that it got Dean's cock twitching. They had to get out of these clothes.

"Hey Cas…" Dean whispered, brushing their lips together. "You wanna mojo these things out of here?" He tugged on Cas's tie to emphasize just what he was talking about, and nipped at the angel's jaw.

There was a rush of cool air and then Dean's eyes nearly rolled back into his head because _fuck_, he was not prepared for the sensory overload that skin-on-skin contact gave him. Cas's skin was hot and smooth and _perfect_, and Dean couldn't stop his hands from roaming all over, mapping out the dips and planes of the body underneath him. He wanted to kiss every inch, leave a trail of hickeys in ridiculous places, and memorize the freckles. He wanted to know this body by heart.

He started kissing along the column of Cas's smooth, pale neck, sucking at it and seeing how it tasted. He felt as well as heard Cas's groan, the pulse beneath his lips quickening. He chuckled, loving how reactive Cas was. The angel hadn't grown up in a world where he was taught that men don't writhe or make a lot of noise, they don't moan without shame or be submissive. Cas wasn't bound by society's rules. He knew what he liked and he responded to it.

Dean, quite frankly, adored it. He ran his hands over every stretch of skin he could touch, gently rotating his hips so that their cocks continued to brush together. It wasn't enough – he knew it wouldn't be – but it was good for now. He wanted to reduce Cas to an absolute puddle. He wanted it to be good, for the angel to remember this with pleasure and affection. And Dean was finding that what was good for a woman was quite similar to what was good for a man.

When Cas hooked his leg around Dean's waist, giving Dean better access, the hunter decided to move forward. He stopped tonguing the angel's nipple and moved back upwards to press a kiss to his temple, placing his lips by Cas's ear.

"Hey, Cas?"

The angel scraped his teeth along Dean's jugular, then soothed the spot with his tongue. "Yes?"

"You okay baby? You want to…"

Cas nipped at his skin, cutting Dean off and making him swallow a groan. "You have to ask?" Cas replied, his tone quietly amused in that dry way of his.

Any other time, and Dean would have rewarded that with a roll of his eyes, but he was too far-gone to do anything other than constrict his throat in nervous excitement.

"We're gonna need…"

The bottle of lube suddenly appeared in his hand, and he eyed the angel beneath him, who was now massaging the back of Dean's neck as he enthusiastically sucked at Dean's collarbone. Deciding to tease Cas about it later, Dean carefully squirted some into his palm, rubbing the gel until it was warm and coated every inch of his fingers. Normally he'd take the chance with spit, but this was Cas. When it came to taking care of Cas, going the extra mile was a given.

Dean grabbed a fistful of the angel's soft dark hair, gently pulling back so that he could look into those baby blues. "If anything hurts or you want me to stop, just let me know." He said earnestly.

Cas nodded in understanding, holding perfectly still. Dean reached his hand down, searching carefully. At first he just circled the hole with the tip of his finger, feeling the skin, getting Cas ready. He pushed in as slowly as he could, the tight ring of flesh instinctively fighting him at first, but he felt it relax bit by bit until he could slide his finger in up to the knuckle. He watched Cas's face the entire time, looking for any sign of pain. The angel's eyelids fluttered and his jaw tightened, but he gave no sign that he wanted Dean to stop.

Gritting his teeth, terrified that he'd hurt him, Dean started moving his finger in and out, slow and steady to start with. Cas started to moan so Dean sped up a little, eventually slipping in a second finger, and then – holy shit a _third_. Cas was twitching violently as he attempted to keep still, his fingers digging into Dean's shoulders. Dean used his other hand to prepare himself, although he didn't need a lot of work seeing as he was already standing at full attention.

When Dean entered him, Cas let out the loudest groan that Dean had ever heard, forcing him to slot his mouth over Cas's in an attempt to muffle the sound. Dean moved steadily, his eyes falling shut against his will. He desperately wanted to see Cas's face, but the sensation of Cas holding onto him and those noises the angel was making and how fucking tight he was and _Jesus fucking Christ_ was Cas a voracious kisser. God_damn_ his tongue was strong.

They kissed, hot and desperate and messy, tongues sliding together and chests bumping as they moved. Dean could hardly stand it, the sensations overwhelming. His head was spinning and sparks were starting up behind his eyes, his blood was on fire and his skin was so sensitive, every time Cas touched him it sent floods of pleasure to his brain, short-circuiting him and making his movements stutter and jerk and good fucking God…

Cas made a keening sound and arched violently, which Dean took as a good sign. He made sure he hit the same spot again and Cas scrabbled at his back, licking fiercely into Dean's mouth as his entire body vibrated. Hot _damn_. Cas in the throes of lust was about the hottest thing Dean had ever seen.

He reached a hand down, fumbling before he found Cas's cock, fisting it, hoping desperately that he wasn't about to be an asshole and leave Cas hanging because there was a deliciously overpowering sensation building deep in his gut and he wouldn't be able to fight it much longer…

Cas bit savagely at the tendons of Dean's neck to muffle his almighty shout, his cock spurting in Dean's hand, painting white stripes all over both of their stomachs. Dean couldn't handle it, his hips snapping violently before his entire body stiffened, gushing inside of Cas and making more warm, sticky liquid run down their thighs.

They were definitely going to have some cleaning up to do.

Dean's arms were aching and starting to tremble as he tried to get his breath back, carefully rolling off of Cas so that he could collapse next to him, his chest still heaving. A chill ran through him and he looked down to find the mess they'd made had vanished. Damn angel mojo.

Dean snaked his arm out, pulling Cas into him. Cas responded immediately, draping himself around Dean and nuzzling into him like a cross between an octopus and a kitten. Dean smiled around a mouthful of Cas's hair.

"Cas?"

The angel raised his head a little so that they could look at each other properly. "Yes, Dean?"

He loved how Cas said his name, so much importance and wonder and love wrapped up into one syllable. It had scared him, scared him for so many reasons and for so long, but now he relished it.

Dean took a deep breath. "I'm… I can't promise I'm going to say this a lot, or ever again, really, 'cause… well, I can count the times I said this to Sammy on one hand, and I was a kid when I said 'em, but – this is the end of the line for me. You… if you– I just can't. Not without you. Do you have any idea how much– what you mean? And if something…" He sucked in a shaky breath. He didn't realize his fingers were trembling until Cas wrapped them in his warm, steady hands, squeezing them gently. Dean tried again.

"I love you. I can't give you a big speech about how much and all because… I can't. I don't have the words but… but I do. Feel that way, I mean. And you gotta… I need you. Here. Always, if possible."

Cas's eyes were always annoyingly blue but never had they burned so brightly, or seemed to pierce all the way down into Dean's soul, the way they did right then.

"From the moment I first saw you in Hell, Dean Winchester, I was lost." Cas grimaced. "Although it did take me a while to realize it."

Dean chuckled, tugging at the hand holding his own to pull Cas down for a heated kiss.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"_I gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition."_

_The words ring in his head as he pulls hard, yanking Cas through the portal with him. Cas's grip is strong, his eyes boring into Dean, unsure but trusting. Dean tightens his grip, possibly yanking the arm out of its socket but he doesn't care. He's getting Cas out of there._

_Maybe once they're out of this mess he can make jokes about how they're even now._

_He gives a final tug and Cas is out, and they're tumbling into the grass together, Dean's hands still clasped around Cas's hand and arm. Cas looks at him, breathless but grinning for the first time since he found him in Purgatory, and Dean feels himself grinning back. They're safe._

_Until she appears, the woman he now knows is Naomi. The memory, suppressed until he saw her face again, resurfaces with vicious clarity. She takes Cas from him, steals him away, and wipes Dean's memory in the process, replacing it with a false one – a terrible one that eats at him, tears him apart, because she forced him to believe that Cas had given up._

"_He just… let go."_

_The memory still hurts, even now._

_Benny would have set him right but the guy has no idea what happened, his time within Dean putting him in a kind of coma. And so Dean lives with the lie, with the thought that Cas gave up, sacrificed himself, and Dean never got the chance to repay his debt._

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

They probably should have been sleeping, what with the apocalyptic battle approaching and all, but an hour later found Cas with his knee wedged between Dean's thighs, determinedly creating the largest hickey Dean had ever received into the nape of his neck. Dean really should have been trying to keep his voice down but it was hard not to moan appreciatively when _fuck_! Where had Cas learned to do–

"Knock knock!"

Dean sat up so quickly he nearly knocked Cas onto the floor. The two of them stared wildly at the tent flap for a second, before Dean felt a breeze and he found that the two of them were clothed once again. Cas stood up and walked over to the flap, peering out.

There was some murmuring between Cas and the unknown person, so low that Dean was unable to catch what they were saying. Then Cas reentered the tent, with the other person in tow. Dean would have made a smart comment when he saw who it was, but he was completely caught off-guard.

"Meg?"

The demon did a sarcastic curtsy, her dark hair now blonde, her face sporting a cut and a couple of bruises. "The one and only." She declared.

"What are you doing here?" Dean demanded.

"Well, I should think that would be obvious, but there's no underestimating your stupidity." Meg sighed. "I'm helping you goody-goodies, of course."

Dean was utterly speechless.

**I love Meg far more than I should. (SSSHH she's not dead what are you talking about!?)**


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm thinking of writing a Meg-centric story, delving deeper into the journey that's hinted at here. What do you think? Should I go for it?**

"Nice to see you too, Dean. I'd love to take a seat, thanks." Meg sat herself down on the bed, smiling expectantly up at them, her eyebrows raised. "What. Did I interrupt something?"

Dean would have loved to tell her that yes, as a matter of fact she had, but he still found himself at a bit of a loss for words.

"Why are you here?" Cas said, his voice questioning but not suspicious. Dean's hands balled into fists almost against his will. Cas had always had a soft spot for the demon, and Dean was feeling especially possessive at the moment. Cas must have sensed this, because he walked over to where Dean was, laying a hand on the small of his back, the touch light but firm. Dean felt the bands constricting his chest loosen.

"I'm here to help you." Meg answered in a _we've been through this_ voice.

"But why are you doing that?" Cas asked.

Meg sighed. "Look; you both know I'm not playing ball for Crowley, especially with how he's been treating me."

"That's what I'd like to know – how did you escape?" Dean demanded.

"With some help." Meg smiled. "Turns out someone else was trying to escape Hell – first time someone's gotten that close to succeeding – and Crowley locked them up with me for some 'special treatment'. Abaddon got me out." Meg sobered up for a moment, her voice and eyes distant. "She always looked after Ruby and me." She said.

"And you've just been on the run, then?" Dean asked. How were they supposed to know this wasn't a trick?

"Pretty much." Meg conceded. "Trouble tends to draw Bela like a magnet, sends her running straight for it, but we've managed all right."

Dean frowned. "Bela… what's her last name?"

"Talbot." Meg said.

Once again, Dean was left speechless.

"Oh, stop giving me that look, Winchester." Meg said with a roll of her eyes. "Anyway, she's waiting for me back at our motel room and she promised whipped cream so can we get on with this?"

Well, if she expected Dean to be able to talk now, she might as well give up. Cas rubbed little circles into Dean's back, soothing waves of heat that spread throughout his body, relaxing him. Meg must have noticed something because she looked from one to the other suspiciously, her hand coming up and pointing as her head cocked like a dog that had caught a scent.

"Are you… is there something going on here that I should know about?" She inquired.

Personally Dean didn't think it was any of her damn business, but Cas had other ideas.

"We were rather hoping to spend the rest of the night fornicating–"

"Geez, Cas!" Dean burst out, turning to give the angel a bug-eyed look of shock.

"But since you've offered your services, I suppose that would take precedence considering the upcoming battle." Cas finished, as if Dean hadn't spoken.

Meg gave a little laugh, an incredulous smile breaking out on her face. "Wait – so you're saying that you two finally jumped each other? Is that what you're saying?"

Dean's mouth worked but no sound came out. Cas thought for a moment. "More or less." He answered.

Meg gave a dark chuckle. "Oh. Oh this is good. Crowley owes me big time." She winked at them. "He thought you two had been fucking for years."

If it was possible to choke on your own saliva, then Dean had just done it.

"So… you're going to fight with us?" He said, desperate to change the subject. "How is that going to work? The rest of the Host aren't going to like that."

"I can handle myself." Meg winked.

Dean opened his mouth to retort, but there was another tap on the tent flap. Cas stepped outside again, spoke with someone, and retreated inside once more. He looked right at Dean, as if Meg weren't even in the room, his eyes gleaming.

"It's time." He pronounced.

Dean set his jaw. Showtime.

::::::::::::::::::::::

The figure snuck over the ridge, as silent and insubstantial as a shadow. He moved with the swaying of the grass, blending in perfectly.

He set his load down in the middle of the camp, his head down and face shrouded in the shadow of his cap. He set it and stood to his full height, turning to run.

"What are you–"

He shoved the Leviathan out of the way, sprinting as fast as he could, the seconds ticking down in his head.

From behind him came the sounds of screams and shrieks. He didn't turn around to look; he knew what he would see. Men and women, bleeding black ooze, shards of bones sticking out of their bodies, their ferocious maws open in death rattles.

And then it hit him. It was like the end of a wave, after the water had already crashed over and the undertow as pulling, sucking, drawing him back. He kept running, forcing his feet to move even though he realized he wasn't actually going anywhere. He was running in place, simply trying to stay away from the great force behind him, the force that was sending so many Leviathan back to where they'd come from.

He wasn't going back to Purgatory if he could help it.

After a minute or two the force ceased, dying down as suddenly as it had sprung up. It felt like the peace after a hurricane.

He turned back and finally looked behind him.

While there might have been a handful that escaped, he couldn't see them. Where there had once been an extensive war camp, filled to the brim with Leviathan, there was now nothing but swaying prairie grass.

He turned to watch the sun as it rose over the land, bathing the world in light. The promise and hope of a new day never ceased to amaze him.

Whistling, Benny strolled towards the rising sun.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

The cries and shrieks could be heard all the way across the prairie, where the Host was encamped. Cas was finishing organizing the troops, Dean right behind him. They both turned towards the sound.

"That'll be Benny." Dean noted.

Cas nodded, making as if to speak, but there was the sound of heavy footsteps as Naomi hurried up, dragging Meg by the collar.

"This demon was found in your tent." Naomi informed them, practically throwing Meg at them. The demon rolled her eyes, as if this entire performance was a waste of her time.

"I was trying to find you. Castiel, they're attacking now." Meg informed them. "That little trick you just pulled – whatever it was, it set them off."

"But how do you know they're–"

Meg pointed, and they all turned.

It looked like a dark cloud, a walking thunderstorm filled with beings that writhed and hissed and screeched. Dean could already smell sulphur and smoke crawling into his lungs. He turned to Cas, who was staring at the wall of incoming demons like he almost couldn't believe it.

"Castiel!" Naomi barked. "We have to prepare the troops!"

"There's no time." Cas responded, his voice like stones scraping together. He turned to face the Host. Half of the angels looked nervous, while the other half looked overly excited, like they'd been counting down the days and couldn't wait to get to the slaughter.

"The enemy is here." Cas announced, his voice ringing out over the camp. "You already know what to do, so I only ask that you remember what your purpose is. What we were created for." He paused, and Dean could see the stiffness in the angel's shoulders. "Whether or not He's watching, I want you to make our Creator proud."

Even after all of this time, Cas still held out, believing that somewhere, God was watching. Waiting, poised for the moment when His children would make Him proud again.

Cas turned back to the front, his eyes locking with Dean's before his skin began to shine, glowing brighter than Dean's eyes could handle and he was forced to shut them against the glare. When he opened them again, he saw that all of the angels, including Cas, looked like Dean now. Some were bronze, others silver, and some gold. Cas was a dark metal that Dean couldn't name, his blue eyes glowing.

Okay, so he looked pretty hot.

Dean could feel the heat from the demon horde and drew his sword. It was supposed to be the Sword of Righteousness, another part of the Armor of God, but Dean wasn't doing this because it was right or on the side of God. He was doing this to take care of Cas.

He shifted closer, so that he and Cas were next to each other, and he saw that the angel had his angel blade drawn. Dean desperately hoped that he could keep Cas safe in the crazy melee.

And then the demons were upon them.

::::::::::::::::::::::

"I didn't even know that Hell had knights." Magdalena observed, helping Sam to prepare the trap.

"Apparently." Sam muttered, checking the summoning spell again. "Are we ready?" He asked, looking at Adam.

The teen nodded, stepping forward to stand beside the other two.

"Here goes nothing." Magdalena said with forced cheerfulness.

Sam nodded distractedly, his mind somewhere else.

::::::::::::::::::::::

_He doesn't want to do it anymore._

_Sure, it feels good to help people, but he doesn't want that life for himself. Not anymore. He belongs with her._

_If only he could bring himself to say it._

_She says it, always mixed in with other sentences, almost in passing. But he doesn't. He's only ever been committed to hunting and what it entails, everything else falling by the wayside, and he's finding that it's difficult to commit to anything outside of that._

_If only he had. Things might be different, if only he had._

_He has no one to blame but himself. He's back here, his determination in it but not his heart, and he doesn't want to do it anymore. He's not like Dean, always looking for the next hunt, always moving, never satisfied with the apple-pie life. He wants to settle down, lay it to rest, retire._

_And now he can't, because he was stupid and didn't have the sense to seize what he had while he had it._

_Unless it's not too late?_

_He didn't fight for her the way he should have, but maybe he can still go back and fix things._

_Maybe…_

::::::::::::::::::::::

He couldn't believe it.

It had been about half a day of ferocious fighting but Dean was pretty sure that they might actually be winning.

Most of the figures around him were a blur, the only thing in focus the demon he was crossing swords with, but Cas stood out no matter what he was doing. Dean had always known – how could he not – that Cas was a soldier, but the truth of it had never struck him until just then. Cas was a force to be reckoned with, a veritable hurricane, carving his way through the demons with such speed and agility that Dean was left speechless.

Meg was doing a pretty good job as well, jumping and twisting, laughing, her eyes gleaming black, shining like wet stones. She was having fun with this. It was a kind of dark joy, poisoned black by the thirst for vengeance and the perpetual anger that seemed to burn somewhere in every demon. Her smile was close to a snarl, and her laugh was hollow.

A demon was coming at Cas from the back. Dean stepped forward, shoving Cas out of the way and slicing at a downward angle, slicing the demon in half. He had to say; this sword got the job done.

Dean held his hand out for Cas to grab, hauling the angel to his feet. Cas looked like he was going to say something so Dean slid his hand up further, grasping at Cas's inner elbow, pulling him in so that their faces were an inch apart.

"We're almost there." Cas said, his chest heaving. "We just need to push them back to the Gates."

"The Gates? Of Hell?" This was the first Dean was hearing of it. "There's an entrance here?"

"Why do you think we chose this as the battlegrounds?" Cas replied. "If we push them back far enough and Sam and the others close the Gates…"

A horn sounded – a freaking _horn_ – and something that sounded like the thundering of hooves.

"And that'll be the cavalry." Dean muttered.

"Actually, that will be the Old Gods bringing up the rear." Cas replied.

Dean tightened his grip on the angel. "Never change." He grinned.

And then Cas slipped from his grip, and they were fighting again.

::::::::::::::::::::::

Normally Crowley would have been Sam's first choice for this, but seeing as the new King of Hell was in reality an Old God, he didn't qualify, so they were going for the second-best option.

Abaddon was definitely a nasty piece of goods, and the idea of making her human appealed to Sam, but he found himself counting down the minutes until it was all over. The task itself didn't matter so much as getting the task _done_.

In fact, he was practically running on autopilot, something he attributed to why it was such a fight to get Abaddon subdued. Adam was sporting some nasty bruises and Sam was pretty sure if he looked in the mirror he'd see a few scrapes of his own. Magdalena was fine, but the wounds on her back that had finally sealed up had partially broken open again.

"Okay." Sam breathed. "Now we–"

A cry, discordant and piercing, rent the air.

"What was that?" Adam asked.

Tied to the chair, Abaddon smiled.

Five beings, painfully thin with ribs and bones showing against sickly mottled gray skin, thin, clawed fingers and ragged batwings, landed on the ground, surrounding them. Their eyes glowed different colors – one red, another orange, a third yellow, a fourth black and the fifth pale green – and their faces were fixed into permanent expressions of pain. Different afflictions seemed to be ailing them, smallpox, yellow fever, cholera and all the rest evident in their bodies.

"What the hell?" Sam had to confess, he'd never seen these creatures before.

"They're the Nosoi." Magdalena breathed. "The five gods of disease and sickness."

"Crowley must have sent them after us." Sam said grimly. "He must have figured out what we're up to."

"Seeing as the hellhound Adam killed was his, I'd say so." Magdalena replied.

"But we can't stop the cleansing now." Adam argued, gesturing towards the chained demon, who laughed delightedly at their dilemma.

"I'll fight them off." Magdalena decided. "You two finish this."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked.

"Do we have a choice?" Magdalena pointed out. "You have to help Adam with this – who else is going to do it?"

Seeing as they really didn't have a choice in the matter, Sam nodded and backed away, towards Abaddon and Adam. "Let's make this as quick as we can." He said. "Magdalena can't hold them off for long."

Magdalena drew her archangel sword. The Nosoi hissed, their eyes gleaming deep in their sunken sockets. Magdalena gripped the handle tightly, planting her feet wide and firm.

"C''mon, you bastards, c'mon…" She whispered.

They all struck at once, their wings beating foul air into her face as they circled and dove for her, their claws whipping out to strike. Magdalena whirled, her sword coming up to catch one in the leg, blood and pus spurting out to splatter on her shirt and face. The creature went down, rolling and shrieking, but sprung right back up to leap at her again once it regained its footing. Magdalena impaled it with the tip of her sword, flinging it off and sending it careening into the side of another Nosoi, sending them both skittering across the ground.

The largest one, with the burning yellow eyes, latched onto her back from behind. She felt its claws slash across her side, right at her ribs, and a shudder ran through her. There was a cold, sinking feeling where the cuts were, like she could actually feel the plague seeping into her body. Magdalena stabbed wildly behind her, the Nosoi jumping off of her and flipping to face her.

He was the largest and the biggest, so he had to be Morbus. Magdalena swallowed. Morbus's diseases always ended in death.

But she kept fighting.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

Dean dispatched what felt like his thousandth demon when he felt the ground shake, a ripple passing through the earth, making it pitch and roll. There was a sudden trembling and a great wave of heat wash over them.

"The Gates of Hell are closing!" Cas shouted over the din of battle. "We have to beat them back!"

Dean shifted his grip on the sword, his palms aching and sweating from holding it after all day of heated combat. He raised it again, attacking the next demon, and the next, and the next, until it all blurred together, the heat becoming more and more intense with each step that he took. His muscles were screaming and he could feel his mind becoming weary, his instincts starting to fuzz out. If he wasn't careful, if he let his weariness get the best of him, he'd wind up with a demon knife in the neck.

And then there was a ferocious sound, like a clanging except much deeper and final than that, and for a moment all was still.

Everyone looked around, including the demons, startled. Dean looked over at Cas, who looked about ready to pass out.

"Was that…?"

A resounding cry shook the demon ranks, and then they all vanished before them, leaving a lingering smell of sulphur and a thin trail of black smoke in their wake.

"I believe that was the Gates of Hell closing, yes." Cas said, his voice strained. Dean's head shot over to look at him so fast that he almost got whiplash.

"Cas? You okay there?"

Cas nodded slowly, then took a step and stumbled, nearly falling. Dean darted forwards and snagged Cas's arm, hooking it over his shoulder and wrapping an arm around the guy's waist. Cas's battle form was gone, replaced by the human form that Dean knew. Meg was suddenly there was well, lifting Cas's other arm over her slim shoulders. She was covered in blood and had a nasty cut on her cheek, but her face was glowing.

"Easy there, tiger." She said, although whether she was talking to Cas or Dean the hunter couldn't be certain. "We really showed Crowley there. I believe this is what they call a government-in-exile." She grinned.

"Yeah. Just help me get him back to the Host camp." Dean ordered.

Meg rolled her eyes but helped him get the semi-unconscious Cas back to his tent, where they laid him down on the bed. Cas woke up a little at that, blinking blearily.

"Meg?" He asked. Dean felt a pang of annoyance that Cas hadn't asked for him first. God, he was such a girl. He busied himself with getting out of that annoying armor.

"Yeah?" Meg asked, cocking her hip.

"Thank you."

"Let's just say you owe me one." The demon replied. "Enjoy your victory while you can, boys. Crowley's not going to take this lying down."

"Take care of yourself. He'll be sure to come after you." Cas noted.

Meg snorted. "I'd like to see him try." She said, but Dean could tell her nonchalance was forced. "Look after him." She said to Dean, and then she was gone, undoubtedly on her way back to Bela – which Dean still couldn't get his head around, frankly.

He looked down at Cas, who had fallen back against the bed, his eyes closed. "You sure you're o–"

Cas grabbed his hand, yanking him onto the bed beside him and curling into Dean, burying his face into the crook of the hunter's neck.

"Whoa, it's okay, baby. I got you." Dean wrapped his arms around the angel, feeling Cas tighten his hold on Dean's shoulder and shirt.

They lay there for a few minutes, saying nothing, doing nothing, simply holding each other. When Cas finally moved, it was only enough so that they could look each other in the eye.

"We won." He said hollowly.

Dean chuckled. "You don't sound too happy about it."

Cas didn't laugh. "It didn't matter to me."

Dean frowned, feeling those deep eyes bore into him, making his face heat up like a freakin' campfire. "What?"

"This… these battles, wars… they used to mean everything to me. And now they don't." Cas explained, as though Dean had asked him what two plus two was. "You. Sam. Hunting." Cas brushed their lips together. "That matters. This is… empty."

Dean grinned. "Then let's get out of here."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Magdalena stumbled back to where Sam and Adam stood, staring down at a pale, shaking Abaddon.

Shaking with rage that is.

"Do you have any idea what you've just done?" She demanded.

"Shut the Gates of Hell? Cut off demonkind from humanity?" Adam hazarded.

Sam glanced at Magdalena, who gave him a weary thumbs-up. Five gods of plague dispatched. No problem. She pressed a hand to her side, which was still aching. She'd healed up the claw marks so she wasn't bleeding, but that swipe had definitely taken it out of her.

"You've tipped the balance." Abaddon spat. "You have no idea what it's going to be like."

"And I'm sure you're going to inform us." Sam said wearily. He really didn't want to hear it.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice echoed throughout the building.

Sam grinned. "Let's go meet the lovebirds." He turned back to Abaddon. "You're human now, so that trap won't hold you. You're free to go…" His smile grew, "If you can undo those knots."

Abaddon's scream of frustration echoed in his ears.

**If the bomb idea was stupid, please let me know (nicely) and tell me what would work instead so I can substitute it. I am far from a weapons expert so let me know how I did!**

**And, to give credit where credit is due, I must admit that a lot of the ideas for Meg came, once again, from the marvelous flutiebear. If you haven't looked through her blog by now, there is something wrong with you. (Or you're just a severe procrastinator like me, in which case welcome to the club.)**

**Reviews are to me what demon blood is to Sam.**


	12. Chapter 12

**As I'm sure you all noticed, I kept Adam alive after completing the Trials. Don't worry, it's not all happytimes after this. There's more to come.**

**If parts of this chapter confuse anyone, I apologize in advance. You did not step into a separate story. Well, kind of…**

Sam rested against the side of the Impala, breathing in the slightly chilled air. Autumn was ending and winter was on its way.

Magdalena approached the car with extreme apprehension, having returned from the gas station restroom. She eyed the Impala with a mixture of curiosity and nervousness.

"Dean told you not to touch the car?"

"He said if I so much as breathed on her, he'd know."

Sam nodded, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Why are cars addressed as female? They are inanimate objects."

Sam shrugged. "I'm not sure. They just are."

Magdalena nodded thoughtfully and gingerly imitated Sam, resting against the side of the car.

"Where is Castiel?" She asked.

"Checking out the newspapers while Dean buys the supplies. We cleaned out the fridge last time we were at this place, so we'll need some essentials."

"Like two six packs of beer?"

"Apparently."

Sam had might or might not have made a pact with Castiel to get Dean to stop drinking so damn much, but thanks to their circumstances they hadn't really had much time to work on it.

"What is this place, anyway?" Magdalena sounded like a kid asking about Disneyland. "I know that we're getting all of the books and stuff to add to the collection at your home, but Dean was sketchy on what kind of place it actually is."

Sam sighed. "It's… it's, uh, where someone we know used to live. He died. Left us the place. It's filled with more books on hunting and stuff than any library, so we're going there to get the info we need."

Magdalena nodded. "Okay." She paused. "I'm sorry about it. I mean, the person dying."

"Don't be." Sam stared out at the rolling hills before them. "Not like it was your fault, or anything."

There was a companionable silence for a couple of minutes, before Sam remembered something. Dean had asked him a few questions about someone, claiming that Magdalena had mentioned them.

"Hey, Lana – what happened to Eros?"

"Lana?" Magdalena looked… well, he couldn't tell.

"Um… yeah. It's a nickname. You like it?"

Magdalena nodded. "Nicknames are a sign of friendship or affection, yes?"

"Pretty much."

The young angel looked puzzled for a moment. "Dean calls Castiel 'Cas'… that is a nickname. Is it the same as–?"

"No. God no."

"Good." Magdalena looked happy.

"So what happened to him? After the whole growing a soul and becoming human."

Magdalena shrugged. "He lived a normal life, as far as I know. He is in Heaven now, along with Psyche. I haven't ever met them – angels tend to leave the souls alone – but I assume they are happy."

Familiar laughter rang in Sam's ears and he looked up. Dean and Cas were emerging from the store, their shoulders knocking together, their heads bent towards one another. Cas had obviously said something funny and Dean was chuckling with abandon. Sam hadn't seen his brother that happy in… well… years. Not even when he'd talked about his own room had Dean gotten such a carefree grin on his face.

Sam reflected that there was one major difference between the story of Eros and Psyche and the facts of Dean and Castiel. This time, there was no benevolent God to stop the angels from venting their wrath.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::

She was warm and comfy under the covers, content to lie there forever, but the light in her room had changed from velvety black to deep purple and blue to a dark gray, and she knew that dawn was arriving. With it came a tug in her gut, a buzzing sensation of anticipation, and she quickly slipped out of bed. Snagging her bathrobe, she padded down the stairs quietly. The sight that greeted her made her lose her breath.

It was on the small side and a little scraggly, but it was a tree – a real live Christmas tree. Some generic red and green ornaments hung from the branches, but the star carefully carved and gilded at the top was homemade. The presents underneath were few, but neatly packaged with pretty shining wrapping paper and bows.

"You like it?"

The voice made her come alive and she danced around the tree, cavorting wildly and laughing breathlessly, shouting that it was a tree, he got a tree, and presents and it was a _tree_ and oh, wasn't it beautiful?

Finally she launched herself at him, hugging him tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

He chuckled. "Merry Christmas, Magdalena."

"Merry Christmas, Castiel."

Brother hugged sister, basking in the glow of the tree lights.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

Magdalena was lying on the floor, her legs bent at the knee, devouring _The Way of Kings_ by Brandon Sanderson. The tree lights twinkled, giving the wrapping paper scattered around her a reflective glow.

"You're already halfway through?" Castiel asked with a fond look.

Magdalena mumbled something, too lost in the story to give a proper reply.

The phone on the wall gave a shrill ring. Frowning, Castiel picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Castiel." The voice on the other end tried to be nonchalant, but he could hear the earnestness. "They've found you."

"What? But we covered our tracks. Did everything we could."

"Well apparently it wasn't enough."

"Bal, tell me they haven't set out yet."

"I tried delaying them but there's only so much I can do without attracting suspicion."

Castiel cursed under his breath, glancing over at the innocent redhead on the floor. She was so happy… they were happy…

"Do you know how many? Or who?"

"Cham and Raph are leading the pack, but Naomi's been doing a lot of dictating. Conniving bitch, isn't she?"

"I wouldn't know. You're the one who slept with her."

"Ah, yes, but I've slept with pretty much every other woman in the compound and they're not all – shit. I have to go. Just _get out of there_. Flee the bloody country, for goodness' sakes."

"Bal?"

"What?"

"Thanks."

"It was worth it."

The call was terminated, and Castiel hung up the phone. Balthazar was an asshole and a half, plus a good measure of pompous, but he was a good man in the end. Without him, they'd never have escaped the compound.

Perhaps they should have gone to Europe; trotted about the globe as Gabriel did (his snarky postcards to the compound had not helped matters).

It was too late now. They barely had enough money to get by, never mind buy plane tickets. How on earth had they been found? It had taken over a month, yes, but still the fact that they had been found at all… shouldn't the search have been given up by now?

Castiel looked again at Magdalena. She was happy here, getting voice lessons and discovering the world of fantasy literature. She'd be starting at the local high school once winter break was over; she was nineteen, so she'd be a couple grades behind, but she was smart. She'd be able to catch up quickly. He'd even gotten a good job in accounting. It wasn't his favorite, but it paid the bills. At least being the one to help balance the compound's accounts had been good for something.

And now they were going to have to give it all up. Leave everything behind, again. How could he do this to her? Why couldn't they just be left in peace? He wasn't going to tell anyone about the compound. God knew he didn't want trouble. There was no danger of leaks, not from him, so why?

Loose ends. They didn't want any loose ends.

Castiel looked over at Magdalena but she was gone, her book abandoned on the floor.

"Hey, Castiel? There are two guys at the door that say they want to talk to us. FBI."

And just when he'd thought a bad day couldn't get worse… and on fucking _Christmas_, of all days.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

The girl looked innocent enough. Young, around eighteen or so, frail but pretty. Red hair that was clearly dyed, though, and recently, judging by the fact that no roots were showing. She was healthy enough but you could tell that this was a new thing. Dean searched her eyes. Eyes were always a big tell. Wide, guileless, but wary, like a rabbit searching for foxes.

"Can I help you?"

Sam put on his best I'm-a-good-guy smile. "Hi there. I'm Agent Sam Winchester and this here is Dean." He flashed the badge. "This is the Milton residence, correct?"

The girl nodded. "Uh-huh." Her face had tightened, and now it was easy to see in her the girl from the photo they'd been given in the file. The hair had been brunette and the cheekbones scarily prominent from malnutrition but that tight, on-guard look was something no amount of makeup or diet could change.

"I take it you're Magdalena, then." Sam said in a borderline fatherly manner.

"Uh-huh."

"Is your brother home?"

Magdalena turned towards the interior of the house. "Hey, Castiel? There are two guys at the door that say they want to talk to us. FBI."

When the guy came to the door, it took a concerted effort to keep Dean's jaw from dropping. This guy's photo did not do him justice.

Okay, so in the file photo the guy had been sporting an amazingly scruffy beard that obscured his face. His hair had been a bit wild and he'd been suffering from malnutrition as well, but this…

Now Castiel Milton – if this was the guy – had cleaned up. Gotten a hair trim and shaved the beard, exposing a strong jaw and solid cheekbones, a thoroughly (_cough)_ kissable mouth and a pair of shockingly blue eyes.

It was times like these Dean wished he hadn't told his brother that he was bisexual, because Sam threw him a look that was far too gleeful for Dean's liking. This was nothing. This was a job, a case, just focus on the case.

"Can I help you gentlemen?"

And of course he had a gravelly voice that would make any porn star weep with jealousy. God sure was laughing His ass off right about now.

"They're FBI." Magdalena repeated, retreating behind her brother.

"Mind if we come in, ask you a couple questions?" Sam asked.

For some reason, Castiel Milton's eyes locked with Dean's. They stared at each other for a good, long moment, before Castiel backed up a bit, gesturing inside.

Dean entered the house first, taking everything in. A small Christmas tree and a few unwrapped presents were the only signs of Christmas in the house. The furniture was inexpensive and there was little of it, and the walls were bare – not even painted. Still, there was a warm atmosphere to the place, and little personal touches, like the small pile of fantasy books on the dinner table and the sheets of music taped to the kitchen window.

"I Dreamed A Dream?" Sam asked. "Les Miserables, right?"

Magdalena nodded eagerly. "I have voice lessons every Tuesday and Thursday. That's the song I'm working on right now."

"She likes to sing while she does the dishes, so I taped them up there. Figured she should at least sing on-key." Castiel said. His tone was as dry as the Sahara but Dean snorted. The guy looked pleased that Dean recognized the comment as humorous.

"Would you gentlemen like anything? We have water and orange juice, and we baked some Christmas cookies last night." Castiel inquired politely.

"Nah, we're good." Dean plopped himself down on a kitchen chair.

"May we sit?" Sam asked, pointedly glaring at his brother.

"Of course." Castiel replied.

Sam sat down next to Dean, while the Miltons took the two chairs opposite. "They come in sets of four." Magdalena said. "It was a sale."

Of course. Dean doubted there were two extra chairs because of all the visitors they had.

"I'll get right to the point." Sam said, with a glance at Dean. "We're here because you've been linked to a larger case we're investigating."

"Have either of you heard of the Heaven's Host cult?" Dean asked.

Both Miltons, to their credit, did an excellent job of looking vaguely puzzled.

"It's a fundamentalist religion that sprang up a little more than ten years ago. It worked pretty under the radar, doing a good job of keeping its nose clean. A few years ago there was a major schism concerning certain policies, and the founder vanished, leaving the organization in the hands of his protégé. Since then, we've been able to keep tabs on them." Sam explained.

"The main compound is based somewhere in the Midwest. We haven't yet located it." Dean added. "Some of their methods include renaming members after angels, run-of-the-mill brainwashing techniques, and forced 'spirit sessions', in which the members are deprived of food and meditate in an attempt to reach a higher plane of existence."

Magdalena's face tightened again, but otherwise she gave no sign that any of this was relevant to her. Dean watched the elder Milton's face. Castiel stared him down, meeting his gaze with an equally intense one of his own. Dean tried very hard not to let himself drown in those blue eyes.

"Does any of this sound familiar to you?" Sam asked.

Magdalena looked to her brother for guidance, then at Sam. "No." She said.

Castiel's gaze did not waver. "This is the first time we've heard of this cult." He replied evenly, his eyes challenging Dean, daring him to call them out.

"That's interesting." Sam said, almost conversationally. "Especially because we managed to get a spy into their main compound. This guy has fed us info about everything, including a recent breakout. Seems that two members escaped the compound a little over a month ago. It's suspected they had help from another member of the cult or two but there are no solid suspects. It's strange, because there was only one other breakout in the history of the cult and that person had to flee all the way to Norway to escape their clutches.

"These two new escapees were a brother and sister. It appears that their parents joined the cult when the elder, a boy, was a young teen. Their names were James and Martha Novak, the son called Jimmy. They were all, of course, renamed upon induction. The girl was born in the cult. Parents died a while ago, we're still looking into that."

"Here's a few other facts." Dean added. "There was a third child, another girl, named Anna. Jimmy's twin, in fact – married another cult member by the name of Uriel Milton. She died under mysterious circumstances about a year ago in what we think was a failed escape attempt. We believe it was around that time the other two siblings must have started planning their escape.

"The youngest girl – we haven't gotten her name – was known for her lovely singing voice. Jimmy, the brother, is said to have been renamed after the angel of Thursday. I looked it up, and that angel's name is Castiel."

Kept the first names, but changed the last – probably both to throw people off and to honor their dead sister. The way Dean remembered her, Anna had been a bright, vibrant thing, a good person as well as a pretty girl. Of course, he had no idea what she'd been like as an adult, but he doubted she deserved to die. Most people didn't.

Castiel's gaze hardened. "I'm afraid that is a sad story, but one that doesn't apply to us."

"It doesn't?" Sam challenged. "Then why don't you tell us your family history?"

Castiel opened his mouth, but Dean cut him off. "Separately." He said. "Magdalena, right? Why don't you show Sam your room? You can tell him your story there. Castiel and I can talk right here."

He was sure they had a cover story planned, but if one of them forgot something or was pressed about a detail, they'd flounder more easily if the other one wasn't there to save them. And contradictions, as tiny as they were, could be enough to crack them.

With reluctance, Magdalena stood and led Sam up the stairs. Castiel didn't say anything, didn't move.

"So, Castiel." Dean flashed him a grin. "What's your story?"

"If by that you mean our family history, it's very simple." Castiel replied evenly. "We were born in Idaho Falls, lived there until I was about fifteen, then moved around a bit. My father experienced a kind of… mid-life crisis. Our mother died giving birth to Magdalena, so I pretty much raised her. Father isn't in the picture anymore. We were at a hotel and he went out to get a drink. Never came back. I've taken care of Magdalena, working to get an associate's degree, and we moved in here about a month ago."

Dean leaned back in his chair, feeling a shit-eating grin tug the corners of his mouth. "And when my partner comes back and we confer, will he give me the exact same bullshit?"

"Agent Winchester, I'm afraid you have this all wrong."

"As a matter of fact, Castiel, I don't. And that little slip right there just proved it." Dean leaned forward. "Sam told Magdalena his last name, but he never gave her mine. And we certainly didn't introduce ourselves to you."

Castiel looked like he wanted to slam Dean into a wall. Dean leaned back, a trifle smug.

"Nice of you to remember me, though, Jimmy. It's been, what, over fifteen years since we last saw each other?"

Castiel didn't reply.

"We were best friends, man." Dean dropped all pretences. "Tore me up good when you guys up and moved. No reason, no nothing, just… gone. Never knew what happened to you. Then I get this case about this cult; run of the mill, no big deal – and then we get this bulletin from our mole. Photos, descriptions… all matching you.

"It shook me. And now, seeing you… not just suspecting, but _knowing_…" Dean swallowed. _And realizing how fuckable you looked,_ his traitorous libido piped in.

"What happened in there?" He asked. "With Anna? Your parents? You?"

Castiel gave him a weary look. This man was so similar to Dean's childhood best friend, and yet, so different. Dean knew that the boy he'd known, Jimmy, was gone. This new man, Castiel, had been through things that Dean could hardly imagine.

"It's one thing for the FBI to come knocking. Imagine how it felt realizing the agents were your best friend and his kid brother." Castiel snorted. "I missed you, you know. I never fully agreed with the beliefs, but I stayed because family is family. You stay together, look out for each other…"

Dean nodded. He and Sam were the same, especially after the fire. Family came first.

"Our parents died normally… or normal for the compound. Malnutrition got my mother, and Father died in the night during a secret project. I still don't know what they were up to but three other men died with him.

"But Anna got married and Uriel seemed like a good guy – funniest man in the compound – and Magdalena wasn't unhappy. So I stayed. And honestly, I didn't think it was possible to get out. Gabriel did but he was always a wild card. Only someone as unpredictable as he could have managed it."

"But then?" Dean prodded gently.

"Anna tried to get out, too." Castiel sighed. "Inspired by Gabriel, I imagine. She was always kept there by the thinnest of threads and Gabriel was our sect leader. She thought if he could do it, she could."

"Did Gabriel go it alone?"

"Yes. Anna thought she could go it alone as well. When Magdalena and I got out, I knew better. You need a network."

"How'd she die?"

The look in Castiel's eyes made Dean want to kill something, or hug him. Which was unusual, since Dean definitely wasn't a hugger.

"Shot down." Castiel didn't go into details, and he didn't need to. Dean had a feeling there was more than just being 'shot down', but he wasn't going to pry. Castiel would have to give a full, detailed account later on but this wasn't the time. Dean wasn't taking notes. This was friend to friend, a laying down of burdens.

"That was when I decided we had to go. That, and a few other things." Castiel explained. Dean figured that the 'few other things' were the arranged marriages the cult had – according to the file Castiel had been set to marry a girl named Rachel, while Magdalena was betrothed to a boy named Samandriel. "I pulled some favors, small ones, from various people. None of them knew about the others, so no one could put together the pieces. Balthazar, another member, volunteered a few more services. It was his help that ultimately got us out."

"Balthazar?" Dean frowned. "Is he British, by any chance?"

"Yes, why?"

"That's our guy." Dean said. "He helped you get out and he didn't tell us? That's against direct orders – he's not supposed to intervene with the cult or help anyone out. Just observe."

"Well, he helped us." Castiel shrugged. "He actually called us this morning. I did wonder how he got the number. He said the cult has tracked us down."

"What?" Dean was surprised, but not overly so. Of course they'd want to shut them up before someone like the FBI got to them. Castiel and Magdalena were extremely valuable to the bureau, but only alive.

"We have to get out, Dean." Castiel explained earnestly. "I don't want to leave the life we're building here, but Magdalena's safety is more important than that."

"We can put you into Witness Protection." Dean offered.

"Would you check up on us?" Castiel asked.

"Do you want me to?" Dean replied.

There was a pause that really should have been awkward, but for some reason wasn't. Dean knew that it was pretty much against protocol, but he'd just gotten his best friend back. He wasn't going to lose him again.

"I'll pull a few strings." Benny would help out, and God knew Garth owed him a favor for saving his ass. And Jo was always willing to lend a hand, no matter what the situation.

"Good." Castiel said. "Because I believe we have plenty of catching up to do."

Dean grinned, and this time, Castiel smiled back.

Dean ignored the flipping of his stomach.

::::::::::::::::::::::

"Samandriel's a nice guy, but I'm nineteen. I don't want to get married yet." Magdalena explained. "And Rachel was head over heels for Castiel, but he didn't even know that she existed until Hester informed him of the match."

Sam nodded. "I see."

It was getting dark, and they'd moved from Magdalena's bedroom to the small but neatly kept backyard. Dean and Castiel had been so deep in conversation that they hadn't even noticed their siblings slipping out the back door. Sam barely remembered the Novaks, but he knew that Dean had been pretty cut up when they'd gone without a word.

"So… how'd you get out, exactly?" Sam inquired.

Magdalena thought for a moment. "I'm not sure about the actual planning stage – Castiel handled all of that with Bal's help."

"Is Bal short for Balthazar, by any chance?"

"That's the one."

He and Dean were going to have a long chat with the guy about following orders when they got him out of the compound.

"Well, what about the actual escaping part?"

The rustle of leaves was the only warning. Suddenly they weren't alone in the yard, at least five other figures surrounding them.

Before she could react, Magdalena felt something sharp – a knife or dagger or something of that sort – embed itself in her back, just to the right of her spine.

There was a moment of pain, and then everything exploded.

_Creation_

_Father_

_ Lucifer_

_Burning_

_War_

_Gabriel_

_Castiel_

_Righteous Man_

_Dean_

_Sam_

And through every flash of memory was the pain, the pain of her wings being torn out, worse than any other torture her siblings dealt her, pain so great she couldn't even scream, all of it overwhelming her and turning her inside out and upside down and…

She woke up screaming.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"She's awake!"

"Her heart rate is off the charts!"

"Give her air, back away!"

"Nurse!"

Magdalena flailed, sucking in deep gulps of air, her eyes wide as she took in everything around her. While she'd never been in one before, she recognized this place well from her vessel's memories. Christine Tiberias was dying of leukemia when Magdalena took her as a vessel, and the memories of hospitals were many.

"Castiel? Castiel! Where is he? Where are the others?" She had to find her brother and the Winchesters.

"It's okay, honey." One of the nurses replied, gently forcing her back down as she tried to sit up. "They're in the men's ward."

"What? Why? What's going on?" Magdalena couldn't remember.

"You've been asleep, honey." The nurse said gently. "The others still are."

"Asleep?" Magdalena asked. "For how long?"

"Well, today's the 16th, and you four were discovered on the–"

"The 16th? Of what month?"

"January."

Magdalena couldn't breathe. She tried to remember the last thing, the last real thing before her scarily realistic dreams. She and Sam had been talking at the Impala while Dean and Castiel got stuff from the gas station. That had been on the 12th of December.

She had been asleep for over a month.

::::::::::::::::::::

For his first solo hunting assignment, things had gone pretty well.

Escorting Kevin Tran home from Garth's boat was a job that was potentially fraught with danger, considering the chances of Crowley being hellbent on revenge (no pun intended) were at about a hundred percent. Yet… nothing exciting had happened. No stray Leviathan, no demons, not even a wayward vampire. The trip had been positively boring.

Adam checked his phone. Still no call from the Winchesters. Although he knew they shared blood, and he'd spent a lot of time with Sam during the trials, he was still having difficulty thinking of them as his family.

He checked his phone again. It had been a month since he'd last seen them. Why hadn't he heard from them? Endless possibilities scrolled through his mind. What if they'd been attacked by more demons than they could handle? Magdalena was still weak and an easy target. If something had happened to her, did that spell doom for Christine?

Climbing into the car that he'd acquired, so to speak, for his own uses, he checked the address on the piece of paper that Sam had given him. They'd been heading for a house on the outskirts of this town when they'd parted ways.

Starting up the car, Adam headed for Sioux Falls.

::::::::::::::::::::

Magdalena sat in one of the exceedingly uncomfortable, small, and hard hospital chairs, her eyes trained on the sleeping Castiel. He hadn't moved during the hours she'd sat there, although the monitors registered brain activity.

On his left, in the middle, was Dean, and on the far left, closest to the door, was Sam. All three were exactly the same as when Magdalena had first entered the room. There were no physical injuries, nothing unusual. They were simply asleep, and nothing could be done to wake them.

Apparently, this was how Magdalena had been as well, until she'd shot out of her dreaming state, her blood pressure skyrocketing and her vitals jumping. She'd spoken with Christine, but the human had no answers for her. It seemed that since the girl was already in a state of semi-coma with Magdalena in control, Christine had simply entered a deep state of unconsciousness, with no dreams or brain activity whatsoever.

Magdalena looked up at the clock. It was almost one in the morning.

Standing up, she made her way over to Sam's bed, reaching down and squeezing his hand. She then went to make her way back to Castiel's bed, but paused, turning to stare at Dean.

She fetched Castiel's trenchcoat (which had been delivered to her, along with the rest of their personal items) and stretched it out over Dean's prone form. She clambered into Castiel's hospital bed, curling up against him like a small child.

"Please wake up." She whispered. "You always came back before… please come back just one more time. Just one more time."

She placed her hand over his chest, feeling his lungs expand and contract with each breath his body took. It was both soothing and terrifyingly human.

She lay there, too terrified to fall asleep, until there was the sound of pounding footsteps and Adam staggered in, his face red from running.

"Are they okay? What happened?" He asked, leaning against the doorframe to catch his breath.

Magdalena sat up, careful not to jostle Castiel. "Now that is an excellent question." She replied.

**Again, I hope you all weren't confused at first. As for the dates… the 16****th**** January is when the Season 8 winter hiatus was over. Oh, the cleverness of me!**

**Reviews are as loved as Baby (the Impala, ya idjits)!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Any of you guess what happened? No? That's okay. All will be revealed…**

The scream rent the air, tearing through the comfortable atmosphere that had settled over the room. Castiel bolted upright, his head whipping towards the sound. Dean stood up as well, drawing his gun.

"Stay behind me." He warned, putting a hand on Castiel's chest to emphasize his point. Castiel felt warm and solid, and he found himself having to force his hand away.

They moved towards the back door, their steps slow and measured, trying not to make a sound. There was the sound of scuffling and a gunshot, and Dean could feel Castiel's impatience. Dean reached for the door handle and–

The door burst open, Sam stumbling into the room, a bruise rapidly forming on his left cheekbone.

"They got her." He burst out. "I shot at them but I don't know if I actually hit them. But Magdalena's gone."

Castiel pushed past him, running into the backyard. Dean followed, holstering his gun.

"We're going to get her back." He said, putting his hand on the guy's shoulder. "It's a few day's drive to the compound at least. We'll catch up with them."

"So we're going after them." Sam said. It was a statement, not a question. When he saw Dean's face he nodded. "Mind if I head back to the motel, take care of a few things?"

"Sure." Dean replied. "I'll keep an eye on this one." He squeezed Castiel's shoulder before letting his hand drop.

"Right then." Sam nodded to Castiel, then headed back out to the Impala. Technically they could have flown and rented a car, but Dean hated flying and to call him attached to the Impala was a severe understatement. Sam revved up the engine and headed back to the motel they were renting, fully expecting the room to be dark and empty.

But when he opened the door, he felt the presence of someone else. He quietly slid his gun out of its holster, flicking on the light with one hand and raising his gun with the other. The sight he was greeted with both relieved him and nearly gave him an aneurism.

"Surprise!" Amelia was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, a birthday cake in her hands. Their dog, Riot, was curled up on the floor, his head up and tail wagging when he saw Sam.

Sam couldn't help it. He stared. Amelia was four months pregnant and had a practice to run – and she'd driven (or flown) all the way over here so she could surprise him for his birthday?

He'd honestly forgotten it even _was_ his birthday.

"What's the matter?" She laughed. "Haven't you ever seen a birthday cake before?"

The words hit him like a punch to the gut and the room spun, the entire world tilting on its axis as memories came flooding back, overwhelming him, making him a little sick with the sheer number and intensity of them. His entire life rushed over him in fragmented bits and pieces, sending him spinning into a freefall of remembrance. The last thing before he was completely overpowered and he blacked out was an image of an ivory gate, strange oily bubble-things flowing out of them, and a white, ghostly wilted tree.

:::::::::::::::::::::

"Sam! Sam!"

"He's awake?"

"Sam! Can you hear me?"

"His heart rate is spiking…"

Sam blinked rapidly, coughing and heaving as he was jerked back to the land of the living. When his vision cleared he was met with the two concerned faces of Magdalena and Adam.

"What…" Sam swallowed, willing his rapidly beating heart to slow down. "What's going on?" That dream – if it was a dream – had been scarily realistic.

"You've been asleep." Magdalena explained. "As was I. Dean and Castiel are still out of it. What were you dreaming?"

Sam frowned. "Uh… you and Castiel were escaping from a compound, and Dean and I were FBI agents…"

Magdalena nodded. "That's the same dream I had, until something happened that triggered my real memories and I woke up."

Sam remembered the last thing the dream had presented to him: Amelia, cross-legged with Riot, presenting him with a birthday cake.

"I gotta get up." He said, trying to sit up.

"Whoa there, cowboy." Adam said. "You should probably rest."

"I have to make a phone call." Sam argued stubbornly.

Magdalena placed a hand on his chest, closing her eyes for a moment. "He's good." She pronounced. "All of his vitals seem normal."

Adam stepped back and they let Sam lurch to his feet. "Your clothes are in the bathroom." Magdalena supplied.

"Thanks." Sam headed towards the bathroom. Hopefully his phone was still in his front pants pocket.

He had a call to make.

::::::::::::::::::::::

"So," Adam said, continuing the conversation they'd been having before Sam woke up, "It's Doctor Oneiroi?"

Magdalena nodded. "We'll have to jump him in the parking lot." She frowned. "What does that even mean?"

"Christine again?" Adam grinned.

Magdalena sent him an all too knowing look. "You like her."

Adam shuffled his feet.

"Don't worry – she likes you too." Magdalena assured him. "And I won't be using her as a vessel forever."

Adam grinned at her, some of the tension leaking out of his shoulders. "All right. Let's go hunt an Old God."

:::::::::::::::::::::

Sam didn't have the number saved into his phone, but it didn't matter. He knew it by heart. He pressed the phone to his ear, clutching the sink with his free hand to stop it from shaking.

He listened to it ring, and ring, and ring… and ring.

After the eighth ring or so, he got her voicemail.

_Hi! If you're looking for Amelia, you found her! I'm probably with an animal right now but if you leave your name and number I'll call you back ASAP! Have a great day!_

He waited for the _beep_ that signaled he could start speaking.

"Hey, Amelia, it's… it's Sam. Look, I know that I messed up. Big time. And you don't know this, but I… I wasn't completely honest to you, about some things. I just… I can't stop thinking about you. Yeah, corny, I know. But if you could just give me a call, and we could… I don't know. If you could – just, please call. If you can. And take care of yourself. And Riot."

He disconnected the call before he said something even more stupid, and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

Splashing water onto his face, Sam figured the chances of her calling him back were about slim to none.

::::::::::::::::::::::

"Doctor Oneiroi?"

The man turned, plastering a smile onto his face. "Yes? How can I–"

The archangel blade came out of nowhere, biting into bone before the man could do anything other than widen his eyes in shock. His hand bounced on the concrete, rolling about a foot before coming to a stop.

Instead of freaking out, the way any normal human would, the man simply chuckled. "I knew you would get onto me eventually."

Magdalena raised the blade threateningly. The man took a step back, only to find himself running to the muzzle of Adam's gun.

"Hello, Morpheus." Adam said, his voice deep and cold.

"Don't bother with the threats." Magdalena said. "We know who you work for."

"Tell Crowley that the war's over. He lost." Adam said. "He better learn to accept it and leave us alone."

"Kind of hard to be the King of Hell when there's no Hell for you to rule." Magdalena observed.

Adam moved around to the front of the Old God, whose face was contorted into a snarl.

"This isn't over." Morpheus hissed, clutching at his wounded arm.

"I'm sure." Magdalena replied dryly.

The Old God vanished, leaving them alone in the parking lot.

:::::::::::::::::::::

Dean had a few bad days under his belt, but this was definitely in the top ten. Driving in a massive thunderstorm, at night, chasing down insane cult members was definitely not his idea of a good time.

Still, he supposed it could be worse.

Castiel sat in the front passenger seat, his face set and his eyes looking straight ahead. The guy must've been worried sick about his sister.

"We're going to get her back." Dean assured him, turning his head to look at him fully.

Castiel turned his head as well so that they were sitting face-to-face. "I know." He replied. "I trust you."

Somehow, their hands ended up resting on top of one another, fingers entwined. Dean sucked in a breath, his heart throwing itself against his ribcage, and–

The Impala skidded, fishtailing violently. Dean tried to wrest back control but before he knew it they were tumbling over the muddy embankment, ending upside down and sinking in mud.

Dean scrambled to open the door, and heard Castiel undo his seatbelt. "Dean!" The man shouted. "Don't open the–"

Mud came flooding in, splashing right into his face and covering him almost instantly. Dean spluttered, trying to find his seatbelt to undo it and get out, but the mud was everywhere, overwhelming him, getting in his eyes and nose and mouth, oh God it was _in his mouth_, he couldn't breathe and he still couldn't get the fucking seatbelt undone and–

He felt a strong hand grip his shoulder and suddenly he was being yanked out of the car, up through the torrential mud and onto solid ground. It was raining buckets but at least he could breathe as he coughed up the mud. He felt a hand come up and tenderly wipe away the mud from his face, but that other hand never stopped gripping his shoulder. He felt like he'd have a handprint burned into the spot, the person was gripping him so hard.

Once the mud was wiped away from his eyes he opened them, blinking against the onslaught of pounding rain. Someone was leaning over him, holding him upright, their dark hair matted down by the rain and their trenchcoat dripping. But their blue eyes shone like beacons, staring concernedly into his face. The hand on his shoulder gripped him a little bit tighter.

And then it all came back.

Dean nearly fell back down the embankment, everything rushing over him like a tidal wave. He remembered it all, every last bit of it, his true life. He stared, slackjawed, at the man – no, not a man, not a man at all – in front of him.

"Cas?" He croaked.

Castiel staggered, the nickname triggering him, and they both fell into the blackness.

:::::::::::::::::::

"Here are your clothes." Magdalena handed them two bundles. "Oh, wait…" She grabbed Cas's trenchcoat from off of Dean, handing it back to the angel. "There we go. I'll leave you to it, then." She said, walking out of the room and closing the door behind her.

Dean set about getting dressed, but something was nagging at him. He glanced over at Cas, who was trying (and failing) to fix his tie. Dean grinned.

"Here, let me get that." He strode over, brushing away Cas's hands and adjusting the tie. "Hey, Cas?" He said, focusing on the strip of blue fabric in his hand, unable to meet the angel's eyes.

"Yes, Dean?" Cas responded calmly.

"Did you – I mean, did we… In the dream, were there… I don't know…" Dean fumbled hopelessly.

"Did I have feelings for you, as I do in this world?" Cas said, filling in the gaps. "Yes, Dean."

Dean felt all the tension rush out of his body, nearly making his knees buckle. "Good." He nodded. "Good." He tightened his grip on the tie, using it to pull Cas in and slot their mouths together, bringing his other hand up to brush his fingertips against Cas's jaw. He felt Cas sigh against him as he sucked on the angel's lower lip, and Dean moved his hand around to the sink his fingers into the dark hair, pushing them more firmly together…

"A-hem."

They jumped apart, chests heaving and faces flushed, to see Magdalena, Adam, and Sam all standing in the doorway.

"Hi!" Magdalena said, wiggling her fingers at them.

Dean groaned and sank back against the wall. This was _not_ how he'd intended anyone to find out.

In fact, he wasn't entirely sure he'd wanted anyone to find out for, oh, about maybe a year. If ever. And he'd definitely planned on sitting Sammy down and talking with him, not having him just walk in like that…

Sam had, in fact, opened his mouth to make a smart remark, his face split in a huge grin, when his phone rang. Everyone stared, frowning, as Sam hurriedly dug the device out of his pocket. His eyes bulged when he saw the number, and he answered with sweaty palms.

"Amelia?"

"Sam." She replied. "I'm not sure why I'm calling you, but… I got your message and… what? Don, what are you…"

"Amelia?" Sam didn't like her tone. She sounded worried. "Is everything all right?"

"Don! What – Sam!" Amelia was screaming now, panic filling her voice. "Sam! Help! You have to– Sam! Sam!" The last cry was a shriek, before a deeper voice took over.

"Hello, Sam Winchester." It sounded like Don, but it didn't speak like him. Sam's blood ran cold. "Been a while, hasn't it? If you want her… you know where to get her."

The line went dead.

"Sammy?" Dean took a step forward, seeing his brother's face.

"They've got Amelia." Sam's voice was hoarse. "A demon possessed Don and it's got Amelia hostage."

**Random Author Note: It is said that at the center of Morpheus' kingdom lies a wilted tree, and that false dreams flow through the ivory gates while true dreams flow through the horned gates.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Only a couple more chapters left, thank Chuck! This project seriously got away from me. I hope that you all think it was worth it!**

"We have to go. Now." Sam said, snapping his phone shut and shoving it back into his pocket.

He was met with four stares laced with utter confusion.

"Go where?" Dean asked.

They really didn't have time for this.

"Look, while you were in Purgatory I met a girl. Great girl. I was stupid, made some mistakes, it didn't work out." Sam explained quickly. "But she's in trouble now – big trouble, and we need to get to her. Got it?"

He took off down the hall, not even waiting for them to reply.

Magdalena and Adam hurried after him, having come to trust him during the trials, but Dean was spluttering and mumbling to himself as he followed. Cas was taking the rear, silent as usual.

Sam gave them the location so that Cas and Magdalena could transport them (and the Impala) to Kermit, TX. They ended up right in front of Amelia's house, in fact. What used to be his house.

Sam swallowed down a lump.

"What's the plan?" Dean asked, both curious and accusing. Why hadn't Sam told him about any of this? And why was he not surprised that a girl had somehow been involved? It was always a girl with Sam.

Of course, it was always Cas with Dean, but he wasn't in the mood for self-analyzing.

"We go in. We get her out." Sam replied, as if it were obvious.

"We don't even know what we're dealing with." Dean argued.

Sam was already up the walk and unlocking the front door. He'd had the key in his pocket when he'd left and couldn't bring himself to throw it away. Thank God Amelia hadn't changed the locks.

The interior of the room was dark and empty. Sam stepped through, Dean and the others right behind him.

"Fan out." Sam instructed. "They've got to be around here somewhere."

As if on cue, someone was thrown down the stairs, rolling and pitching until they thudded to a halt on the floor. Sam hurried over, recognizing the dark, curly hair.

"Amelia?" He whispered, gently turning her over.

She groaned and opened her eyes a crack. She had really taken a beating.

"Who did this to you?" Sam demanded.

"Don…" Amelia stopped, swallowed dryly, and shook her head. The movement made her wince. "No, not… he says he's someone else… says he's…"

The shriek of a demon could be heard coming from up the stairs.

"Magdalena." Sam said. "Get her out of here. Keep her safe."

The young angel was there in a flash, carefully picking up the nearly unconscious Amelia and vanishing.

"It's definitely a demon." Cas diagnosed. "And it's very powerful."

"Could it be another Knight of Hell?" Dean asked.

"I'm not sure." Cas replied.

They all drew their weapons.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Sam…" Amelia struggled against Magdalena's hold.

"Shh. It's okay." Magdalena replied, trying to sooth the woman. "Sam's good at this. He can handle it."

"She said that Sam was a… a hunter. What did she mean?" Amelia asked.

"He hunts monsters and demons, people like… wait – you said 'her'?" Magdalena asked.

They were in the Impala, which the young angel had decorated with protective sigils. Amelia nodded.

"What did she tell you? Did she give you any information?" Magdalena asked.

Amelia shook her head. "She did, but I couldn't understand most of it. Talking about revenge and how the war isn't over…"

"What was her name?"

"Now _that_ I remember." Amelia said. "She said that once upon a time, she was a college student, and people called her Jess."

:::::::::::::::::::::::

Don's figure descended down the stairs with much more grace and poise than Sam had thought the man capable of. There was a litheness to the way he moved, a kind of… well, if Sam didn't know any better, he'd say it was almost feminine.

"Sam Winchester." Don's voice was the same but the way he spoke was different. It reminded Sam of someone. "It's been… almost nine years now, I'd say. You could do with a haircut."

"Even the demons agree with me." Dean muttered, not above making a comment.

"Who are you?" Sam asked. It wasn't Meg, Ruby was dead, and Abaddon was human. And Crowley certainly wouldn't say it'd been years. Nine years… what demon had he faced nine years ago? The only one he could come up with was Azazel, and that guy was long gone.

"Brady?" He hazarded.

The demon in Don's body laughed, eyes glowing briefly. "Good guess, but no. C'mon, baby… don't tell me you don't recognize me."

Sam glanced at Dean, who looked completely confused. Adam was cautiously looking from one face to another, unsure about the personal turn this confrontation had taken. Castiel simply stared at the demon inquisitively.

"One thing about demons," The angel said conversationally, "Is that they still identify by gender. Angels have rarely done so – it's considered demeaning and human. But demons… maybe it's because you were human, once. In any case," He concluded, turning to Sam, "It's a female."

"Female?" Sam felt his guts twist and fought down the bile rising in his throat. Surely it wasn't… it couldn't be… "Jess?"

He'd always assumed – hoped, rather – that she'd gone to Heaven. No one was more deserving.

"Somebody give the boy a prize." The demon sneered, Don's face contorting. "My torture was presided over by Alastair for some time before Crowley took over." The demon began to stalk towards Sam, smiling maliciously. "He sent me here."

"Of course he did." Dean mumbled to Cas. The three other men began fanning out around the demon, ready to fight. Cas's angel blade materialized, but all of them seemed to sense that this was something between Sam and Jess.

"Do you see what you did to me?" Jess asked, Don's voice becoming slightly more high-pitched. "You hid your entire life from me. You _lied_ to me, about everything! If you'd just told me, if you'd prepared me… I could be alive today, alive and happy, and instead I'm this." Don gestured to himself.

Sam had no words. _I'm sorry_ seemed so inadequate, and he couldn't think of anything else.

"I was tortured for years. _Years_, until I just couldn't take it anymore and I started torturing others. Do you have any idea what that does to you? Nobody can endure that kind of pain, the emotional and physical _hurt_, and then inflict it upon others and still remain human."

Sam looked desperately at Dean, just like when he was six and scared of thunderstorms. Dean wished with all of his might that he could argue, claim that he himself had been in Hell and was still human, but that would be bullshit. He'd started turning, black beginning to stain his soul, and the only reason he wasn't a demon today was because of Cas.

"You did this to me." Don was crying now, which looked a little comical, but all that Sam could see and hear was Jess. It was as if she was back in her human body, her eyes red and blotchy and tears streaking her face.

"I trusted you. I _loved_ you. And you…"

The demon was almost a foot away from Sam now.

"This isn't your fault." Dean said firmly, trying to drown out the demon's words. "You didn't kill her, Sam – Azazel did. You know what happened when I told Cassie the truth. Who could blame you for holding back?"

Don whirled, eyes going black. "Stay out of this, Dean." He hissed, sounding like a snake.

"It's not your fault, Sam. You didn't send her to Hell." Dean said. Cas raised his blade, worried that the demon would strike out at Dean now.

"Of course he did." Don's voice was rising in pitch now. "He sent me to become twisted and evil."

"Did Crowley feed you those lines?" Dean taunted.

"I might not have been able to save you," Sam said slowly, "And I've spent the past nine years regretting that."

The demon turned back to him, a savage grin on Don's face.

"But I can release you." Sam promised.

He crossed the few inches of space between them and plunged Ruby's knife into Don's chest, burying it all the way up to the hilt.

The demon's scream echoed throughout the house, Don's empty shell of a body crumpling to the floor. Sam felt relief flood his veins, closing his eyes to stop the tears from leaking out. He felt strangely unaffected knowing that in using Ruby's knife, he had killed Don as well. He thoughts were of the woman he couldn't help, couldn't protect; the woman he could only save by murder. His poor, sweet Jess…

"Oh my." A silky British voice proclaimed. "Oh my, my, my."

"Crowley." Dean growled.

"Should've known you were behind this." Sam said. He yanked the knife out of Don's body and stalked towards the demon god.

Crowley put his hands up in a show of innocence. "I'll have you know I didn't put her up to this. I simply… turned her loose. All of that hate and resentment against you? That was entirely Jess."

"Sam, don't listen to him." Dean said warningly. He knew that Crowley was right – hate was how you became a demon. It was the only emotion left, the only thing that wasn't beaten or whipped or carved or humiliated or starved out of you.

"Look, I'm not here to listen to you blather on about your girlfriend issues. Exes are a bitch, blah blah blah." Crowley waved them off. "I'm here… for him."

Adam was suddenly slammed against the wall, pinned there as an invisible force gripped his neck. The teen scrabbled at the wall and the air, trying to find something to fight, something to relieve the immense pressure on his windpipe. Crowley stalked towards him, his eyes gleaming.

"So you're the little whelp that sealed up Hell." He hissed softly.

"He's got nothing to do with you." Sam lied. "I closed the Gates of Hell, not him. He's innocent."

"Well, I suppose that makes this a double pity, then." Crowley said, his tone falsely sympathetic. He tightened his hold on Adam's neck and thrust upwards, the dagger piercing through flesh with a sickening, indescribable sound, the blood squelching as it seeped through. Adam made a choking noise and stilled, his body falling limp.

Dean was as solid as stone but Sam felt his throat desperately constrict to keep him from throwing up. Dean had always shoved his emotions down deep, letting them rot in the depths of his soul, eating away at his sense of joy and self-esteem but with Sam they rose to the surface, threatening to choke him unless he released them somehow, be it through tears or anger.

This time, he chose anger.

Sam came at him so fast that Crowley was forced to drop Adam's lifeless body and twist away, and even then Sam managed to give him a nasty cut on the cheek. Sam tried again but Crowley darted away this time. He tried to chuckle but there was genuine fear in the Old God's eyes.

"Don't worry – I'll be back for more later. Must go now, so much to attend to. Ta." Crowley said, his throat thick with sudden trepidation.

Sam gave a ferocious shout and rushed towards him, only to be met with nothing but air and nearly crashing to the ground before steadying himself.

"Coward! Fucking coward!" He shouted up at the ceiling.

"Hey. _Hey_."

Sam felt a hand on his shoulder, gripping him and shaking him. He raised his head, the red clouds in his vision dissipating as he stared up at Dean. Sam realized that his chest was heaving. Dean looked like he'd been trying to get his brother's attention for some minutes.

"Adam…" Sam shook his head, his voice hoarse. "He was a kid. A kid we brought into this."

"We'll nail that son of a bitch." Dean promised. "But not today."

Sam made to protest, but Dean wrenched Ruby's knife from his grasp. "Today," Dean said, his tone brooking no argument, "You have something else to attend to."

Sam blinked, confused. Dean grinned.

"You fought the dragon, O Knight. Now go get the princess."

Sam would have punched his brother for that remark, but he was too busy running.

:::::::::::::::::::

"Amelia!"

The two women raised their heads from the backseat as they saw Sam streaking towards them. Magdalena erased the sigils and opened the door, allowing Amelia to barrel out.

They ran into each other, barely managing to stay on their feet, Sam sweeping her up into a massive bear hug.

"You're okay." He whispered. "You're okay. I'm so sorry… so glad you're okay… so sorry honey…"

Amelia buried her face into his chest, clutching at him as tightly as she possibly could.

"I should've fought for you. Should've let you be an adult, make your own decisions. I shouldn't have run." Sam apologized, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes. He pulled back to inspect her. "This wouldn't have happened if it weren't for me." He said guiltily, running his thumb over her cut lip.

Amelia gave a watery chuckle. "Not all of these bruises are from Jess." She confessed. "I was getting out anyway when things went sideways."

Sam pulled her back into a hug. "I love you." He whispered.

Magdalena waved happily to Dean and Cas as they approached, but her smile faltered when she saw that Dean was carrying someone in his arms. "Is that Adam?" She asked, her brow furrowing. "Is he okay?"

Dean didn't say anything, his shoulders stiff. "Crowley showed up." Cas explained. "Revenge for closing the Gates of Hell."

"Wait – he's dead?" Magdalena squeaked.

Everyone stared as the angel's eyes filled with tears. Sam was the first to realize it.

"Christine." He said. The human had seized control of her body. "I'm so sorry."

The girl nodded, tears streaming down her face. "I'm all right, I'm…" She doubled over, holding her stomach, and then straightened again. "She'll be fine." Magdalena said, although her voice was a little shaky. "Her grief is… more than I expected. I'll take care of her."

The young angel turned away from the others.

"I suggest that we find a motel and get some sleep." Cas said, seeing how exhausted everyone was.

"There's still Crowley to deal with." Dean disputed.

"That can wait." Cas said firmly. "For now, let's get some damn rest."

Dean was too shocked at hearing the angel curse to put up anymore fuss.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

Magdalena's eyes flew open, her vessel jarred into wakefulness. Her chest was heaving and her heart was beating unusually quickly. She looked around, but everything seemed to be in place. Had Christine had a bad dream? Nothing was the matter but a strong sense of _wrong_ filled her senses.

The angel listened, straining to hear any unusual activity in the darkened room, but the only thing she heard was the pounding of her heart.

And then she realized.

It wasn't what _was_ there – it was what wasn't there that was so wrong.

Her cry of shock and despair jolted her brother awake at once.

"Castiel!"

He was by her side in a minute, his hand placed soothingly on her back as she sat, body shaking, her eyes wide. Dean raised himself up on his elbow, blinking sleepily at them. What the fuck?

"She's… she's gone." Magdalena cried, filled with panic. "Christine, she's… she's not here, she's not in me she's just… gone!"

Castiel rubbed her back comfortingly, trying to relax her. "It's all right, Little One."

"No it's not!" Magdalena replied. "My human, the owner of this vessel, she's gone!"

"She's dead, Magdalena." Castiel replied firmly.

That shut her up. The young angel stared at him, her eyes even wider than before, the pupils blown wide with shock. "Sh… she's…?"

"She let go." Castiel explained. "It happens."

"What do you mean, 'she let go'?" Magdalena demanded.

Castiel sighed, sitting down on the bed and shooting Dean an apologetic look. The hunter grumbled intelligibly and sank back into his bed, burying his face into the pillow.

"Normally the human soul lives on inside the vessel while the angel is in control." Castiel explained. "But if the human soul wishes to die, he can do so while the angel is in control by simply… letting go of his tie to his body. It's like letting go of a rope you've been holding onto. The soul passes on into the next world, as it normally would upon the perishing of the body."

"I'm alone. In my head, I'm alone." Magdalena whispered. "It's so empty in here, like a big dark cave… Castiel, it's so empty! I'm alone in this head!"

"Your head, now. The vessel belongs to you." Castiel said gently. "You will get used to the silence."

"But how?"

"With time. Jimmy Novak let go when the Leviathan came, and I was a bit too busy to notice, and when I was Emmanuel I felt human so I didn't know anything else, but when I remembered my true nature it was… disconcerting, not to have a secondary voice in my head, running commentary."

"Like someone's always looking over your shoulder." Magdalena said. "But she was my friend." The angel sounded like a five-year-old. "Why did she go?"

"Why do you think?" Castiel replied.

"Adam." Magdalena whispered. "I had no idea they cared about each other so much."

"They have both earned a place in Heaven." Castiel assured her.

A tear slipped out of Magdalena's eye, and she broke down, sobbing in her brother's arms.

Dean accepted the fact that he wasn't going to get his bedmate back any time soon, and used Cas's pillow to cover his ears in order to muffle the crying and get some sleep.

::::::::::::::::::::::::

Dean finished lathering up his skin, pawing on the counter to locate the straight razor. Although he would never admit it, Dean was definitely old-fashioned in a few ways. He liked old cars, classic muscle cars especially, old traditional houses, three-piece suits (although he rarely got the chance to wear one) and well-worn jeans. He also liked the traditional way of shaving, fancy electric razors be damned.

Son of a bitch; he was starting to sound like Bobby.

He'd just raised the blade to his skin when he looked in the mirror and realized he wasn't alone.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean whirled around, brandishing the razor in front of him like a gun, facing a rather unperturbed Magdalena.

"We need to talk." Magdalena announced.

"Yeah – about how you've picked up Cas's talent for giving me a heart attack." Dean said accusingly, pointing the razor at her.

"I'm sorry." Magdalena said, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. "But we really do need to talk."

"About what?" Dean asked.

In response, Magdalena took off her shirt. Dean was about to protest that he had absolutely no interest in seeing her like that, but then he saw her stomach.

"Son of a…"

Four thin scars, obviously claw marks, were slashed across her belly and left side, stopping at the underside of her breast (which he was glad to see was covered by a bra). But that wasn't all. The scars were raised and red, surrounded by welts that looked excruciating. From those marks, thin tangling black lines were spreading over her abdomen and chest, pulsing like blood vessels. The skin around those veins was shockingly white, almost lifeless.

Dean sank down onto his knees to examine her properly. "May I…?"

Magdalena nodded her assent. Dean carefully traced his fingers over the veins, feeling how they expanded and contracted. As he watched the angel's chest rise and fall, he realized that they were pulsing in time with her breathing. And, most likely, in time with her heartbeat. As he passed his hand over the welts Magdalena sucked in a breath with a hiss, and her body seized up.

"Sorry." Dean apologized. "What is this?"

"Morbus, one of the Nosoi, got me. They're the gods of disease. Cancer, plague… you get it. They attacked Sam and Adam while they were closing the Gates of Hell. Morbus is the most powerful of the five. His illnesses are always fatal."

"Well you're an angel, right?" Dean argued. "You've got Grace to fight this."

Magdalena shook her head. "This thing… whatever it is, it's eating up my Grace. I'm growing less angelic every day."

Dean snorted at the inadvertent joke. Magdalena glared at him. "Those welts have been bursting, by the way. They're filled with puss and burn like a bitch."

"Nice." Dean muttered. "Anything we can do?"

He stood up and rinsed off his hand as Magdalena shook her head. "There's nothing to be done." She said, her voice surprisingly calm.

"Then why bring it up at all?" Dean asked. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and remembered that he was still covered in shaving cream. He picked up the razor again and began to shave.

"I'm dying, Dean." Magdalena said. "And I had to tell someone because it's going to get harder to hide it."

Dean frowned. "Why me?" He asked. "What about Cas or Sam?"

"Because they'd want to heal me. They'd try to find a way to fix it, and break down when they realized they couldn't. They'd fuss over me." Magdalena explained. "But you… you don't care about me."

"You're not that bad." Dean said offhandedly.

"But you don't _like_ me." Magdalena argued. Dean had to concede that she was right. He no longer hated her, but he wasn't ever going to be fond of her. "But you will respect my wish."

"Depends upon the wish." Dean said, rinsing off the razor blade.

"I want you to help me hide this from Castiel and Sam." Magdalena explained. "I want to spare them the pain."

"They'll be pretty damn pissed when they realize you hid it from them." Dean argued.

"But they'll understand." Magdalena replied, still calm. "Dean, I want my brother spared as much pain as possible. I had to kill him once – I don't want to ever hurt him again."

Dean sighed, bracing himself against the sink and locking eyes with her in the mirror. If he were honest with himself – and he'd been trying to do that, ever since Purgatory and Cas – he'd admit that he'd do the same if their positions were reversed.

"All right." He sighed. "I'll help you out."

:::::::::::::::::::::

It quickly became apparent to Dean that without him, Magdalena stood no chance of hiding her condition.

She'd tried using her Grace to hide the physical effects, but the effort exhausted her, making her fumble and trip when she walked and sleep almost constantly. Dean appointed her the getaway driver, the rear guard, the scout, etc. – any position that kept her out of the way of the main fight. He was worried that if push came to shove, she'd be too tired or disoriented, or possibly too dizzy with pain, to react to an attack and end up getting them all killed.

Sam didn't need too much distracting, thanks to Amelia, but Cas took a little more persuading. Dean found that sex was the best way to make the angel ignore all else (including a vomiting Magdalena, head bent over the toilet and praying to the porcelain gods), and took to shoving him onto or up against any surface that would take them. They even found some creative ways to christen the Impala. Sam pitched an epic fit about that, claiming they'd defiled the equivalent of his childhood bed.

But as the days went by, there was no avoiding the truth: no matter how she fought and struggled, no matter how she rested or relaxed, the sickness continued to spread. Magdalena was vomiting almost daily. She could barely keep food down and there were permanent bags under her eyes. Her skin was burning to the touch but she had taken to wearing one of Sam's big coats, always complaining about the cold. She slept at least fourteen hours a day. Her reactions were dull, and she wasn't healing from cuts and bruises.

Dean kept his promise, propping her up when she couldn't walk and making up excuses when she couldn't join them on a hunt. He thought up what he would say to Cas when the time came, and prepared to get punched at least once.

It was a slow and painful process, but Magdalena was definitely dying.

**The Demon!Jess idea was stolen from flutiebear, who mentioned the idea in a post. Do yourselves a favor and read her amazing meta on her tumblr – flutiebear .tumblr .com (remove the spaces).**


	15. Chapter 15

**Jumping right in there with the smut. No, I am not ashamed.**

Dean ran his hands slowly up the sides of Cas's ribcage, making the angel arch into him. Dean struggled to keep his eyes open, the spray from the shower making it difficult, but the reward was the sight of a thoroughly wrecked Cas so it was worth it. The angel was leaning back against the shower wall, his lips red and plump from Dean mauling them a few minutes ago, his skin glistening with water droplets and his chest heaving.

"We're using up all the hot water." Cas croaked, his voice low enough to hit Dean right in the groin.

"Don't care."

"Sam and Amelia are waiting."

Cas made to shove Dean off of him so the hunter grabbed his hands, pinning them against the wall. "Don't care." Dean repeated.

"Magdalena is definitely going to know what we were up to."

Dean didn't even bother to reply, deciding that if Cas could still string together a bunch of words into a coherent sentence, the hunter needed to step up his game. He started sucking on Cas's neck, running his lips up and down the soft skin. Cas gave a moan and bucked up into him, brushing their cocks together and making Dean nip at his neck.

"Anxious, Cas?" Dean drawled, pressing every inch of their lean bodies together, loving the way Cas's body trembled against his, feeling the heat pulsing underneath the angel's skin.

"Dean…" Cas growled warningly.

"Y'know… you could get out of this." Dean whispered, brushing his thumbs over the sensitive skin of Cas's wrists. "You could shove me off of you, no problem. But you don't." The angel trembled some more, a whimper working its way up his throat when Dean lapped at his clavicle. "I think you like this… you like being at my mercy… at letting me do this to you…"

Cas groaned, his eyes falling shut, and Dean swooped in, seizing those flushed lips in his teeth, mapping out the angel's mouth with his tongue. He kept their chests together but made sure their hips weren't touching, giving no friction where it was most needed. Cas made tiny pleading noises at the back of his throat, anxious little mewls that Dean drank up like the smoothest malt whiskey.

"Need something, Cas?" Dean whispered, pulling back just enough that they could talk without the other one's tongue getting in the way.

Cas's pupils expanded, growing until the only blue that remained was a thin ring of burning fire around the rim, the rest a shining, feral black.

"You." He ground out.

Dean let out a groan and kissed him again, pressing their hips together, letting Cas hitch his leg up around him and grind them against one another, harder, faster, releasing one of Cas's hands to work his way between them and _God, yes, Cas, Dean, right there oh God Dean Dean Dean…_

Somehow, he wasn't sure exactly when, Cas latched onto Dean's shoulder with his teeth, biting down as he emptied himself. Dean was far from complaining, pressing their foreheads against each other and brushing their noses together.

"You're beautiful." He whispered, almost in awe.

Cas chuckled wearily, his head falling back against the tiles. "Look who's talking."

"Guys!" There was a very loud, very annoyed banging on the bathroom door. "The walls aren't that thick!" Magdalena shouted.

Dean knew he should be embarrassed, and maybe once he would have been, but instead he found himself laughing quietly into Cas's skin, letting the now-freezing water beat down on them.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

"Look – they're here to stay and so are we, so why don't we at least try to coexist?" Amelia argued.

Dean wondered if he punched the wall hard enough, would his hand make a hole or would he break his knuckles. He was seriously tempted to test it out.

"They're _monsters_, Amelia." Dean replied, trying to keep his tone even. He'd never really known Jess and his relationship with Ruby had been a hot mess, but he wanted things to be nice between him and Amelia. He didn't want to alienate Sam by shouting down his girlfriend.

It was getting pretty damn hard not to, though.

Amelia had this idea of running a 'monster clinic' – acting as a kind of… monster-whisperer veterinarian person thing. She wanted to reach out to the shifters and werewolves and vamps. Dean was trying to tell her that it wasn't worth it, that she'd end up with a lost cause at best and murdered at the worst, but Amelia was having none of it. Sam really could pick the stubborn ones.

Although, it would help offset his brother's touchy-feely _let's discuss our feelings_ attitude.

"Look," Dean said with a sigh, "I know that you come from a different background, but…"

His third speech of the day was interrupted not by Amelia (again), but by Sam.

"We're going to do it, Dean."

The 'we' made it feel like someone had upended a bucket of ice water over his head.

"What?" He blinked at his brother, unsure if he'd heard him correctly.

"We've already discussed it, and I want to give it a go." Sam explained. "I'll keep hunting, but maybe there are some that don't want to be what they are, that want to fight their genetics. Look at Benny."

Dean could have punched him for basically using his own argument against him, but he got Sam's point.

The silence stretched out like a rubber band, ready to snap at any moment. Magdalena was curled up on the bed, her body limp and exhausted but her eyes wide as she watched the unfolding drama. Cas was standing at the foot of her bed, his eyes never leaving Dean's face. Dean wanted to lean on the angel like he was a crutch. The last time Sam had left him for a girl that girl had been Ruby. Look at how that had turned out.

_Amelia's different,_ he tried to remind himself.

"Fine." He growled, the word coming out savage and rabid. "But if it all goes to hell, I get to say _I told you so_."

Sam's face was cold and rigid but his eyes were soft and sad. "Fine." He replied quietly.

After they left Magdalena retreated to the bathroom with the claim of taking a shower, but she just sat there under the spray, letting the water muffle out the sound of Dean crying into Cas's shoulder.

He was tired. So, very, tired. The war, and then Crowley trying to play this pick-them-off-one-by-one game, striking from the shadows like the coward he was, and losing Cas in one way only to lose him another way before having to go back to Purgatory to get him and now his brother, his baby brother, was again picking a pretty girl over him.

And he was just so tired.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried. Had he cried when Cas went into the lake? He might have cried in his nightmares. He knew that he often woke up with skin that felt stretched and tight, with wet patches on his pillow.

He certainly couldn't remember a time when he'd had anyone hold him like this, be his safe place, his rock. He was exhausted. He couldn't be the strong one, didn't _want_ to be.

And for once, someone was stepping up. Someone was being the strong one for him, supporting him, keeping him from crumbling or floating away. Someone was willing to accept the weaknesses, the fears, the doubts and the sins, along with everything else.

He gripped Cas a little tighter.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

Dean blinked slowly, wondering what was different. Cas was asleep next to him, limbs splayed out like the octopus he was, his breathing deep and even. Dean looked over at Magdalena's bed.

It was empty.

Slowly climbing out of bed, Dean eased his way out the door.

She was lying on the hood of the Impala, staring up into the sky. She turned her head as Dean approached, and he could see that her veins were thick and pumping against her skin, black lines running like spider webs.

"I wanted to see the sunrise." Her voice was soft and hoarse, and she swallowed thickly. She breathed open-mouthed, her chest heaving and fluttering, her nostrils flaring. It was easy to see that her lungs were failing her.

Dean climbed onto the hood with her, suddenly reminded of Sam when he was about twelve. At night the gangly youth had often lain on the hood, gazing up at the stars. He'd always wanted a telescope but John would never buy one for him, so he'd had to content himself with what he could see with his bare eyes. Dean decided then and there he was buying Sam a telescope the next morning.

To Dean's surprise, Magdalena curled into him, seeking his body warmth. She shivered against him but when Dean put the back of his hand to her forehead, it was burning. Her face was a clammy white, tinged with the palest green, but droplets of sweat gleamed against the skin, running down her body and plastering her hair down. Her cheeks and neck were flushed a feverish red, and her lips were blue.

She wasn't going to last long at all.

In fact, Dean realized as he wrapped an arm around her so that the young angel could settle against him properly – she might not even last past the sunrise. Her eyes were dull, like fogged-up glass, and her body had begun to tremble. The tremors were incredibly minute but violent, almost as if her skin were vibrating. Dean tightened his hold, watching the supernatural being before him reduced to a small child. Magdalena had always struggled to assert her power, to show independence and strength, but now she seemed so young, so afraid, and yet so… tired. Exhausted, even. Both her body and her Grace assaulted until they had nothing left, no strength left to give, and the invasion of her form was complete.

"It's… probably best." Magdalena observed, her voice carried out on a sigh. "Christine's death, and all. I promised her I'd heal her body, get rid of the cancer… a long life ahead of her when I was gone… and look." She gestured weakly, her hand waving languidly at her wrecked body. "It's in even worse shape now."

"You put up a good fight." Dean reminded her. "Taking on five Old Gods by yourself, and without full power – that's something to be proud of."

"You're being nice to me." Magdalena made a choked, wheezing noise that might have begun as a laugh but turned into a hacking cough. "I must really be in bad shape."

Dean turned to look at the sun as it began to creep up, illuminating the sky and throwing colors like splashes of paint across a blank canvas.

"So many colors… like the wings of my siblings…" Magdalena whispered. "You know, I never thought of the sun as coming up _over_ the horizon, but… coming _out_ of the horizon… like an egg out of a shell…"

Dean nodded, seeing her point.

"Favorite time of day…" Magdalena's voice was softer than the warm morning breeze beginning to stir the dust gathered on the concrete. "So many possibilities… so promising, so new, but the same ritual… such beautiful colors…"

Dean shifted his hand, pressing two fingers against the underside of her wrist. Her pulse was slow but erratic, thumping once, twice, three times, then not at all for a moment, and then picking up again, slowing down, down, down…

"Did I do good?" Magdalena asked suddenly, her voice rising with effort. She struggled to sit up a little. "Did I… do a good job?"

"You did the best you could." Dean promised her. "That's all we can ask of anyone."

He had no idea where this compassionate confidence was coming from. Cas was starting to rub off on him.

"Take care of him." Magdalena said, as if she could read his thoughts.

"What do you take me for?" Dean huffed defensively.

Magdalena sank back down, her eyes on the blurred line where sky met land. She was staring directly into the sun, her eyes watering… or was that from sadness?

"So beautiful…" She sighed. Dean followed her gaze out at the promising sky and nodded. He had to agree with her; it was beautiful.

_Thump._

One last beat, and the pulse beneath his fingers stilled.

He looked down at her face. The black was still covering her skin, just underneath the surface like vines on a rainforest floor, but they no longer pulsed. Her skin was cold and clammy, and her chest no longer rattled. And though her eyes stared into the sun, they were dull and glassy.

Magdalena was gone.

**Oops, I killed off another OC. Clumsy me. I tend to do that… my apologies!**

**I am also aware that Magdalena did not die as most angels do, with the whole black-wing-imprint and all, but since her wings were gone and she died from an illness that was not only poisoning her body but literally eating her Grace, I had her die in a more 'human' fashion. I hope this doesn't bother anyone too much.**


	16. Chapter 16

**But wait! There's one more chapter! *maniacal giggles* Sorry. I can never resist a final twist and/or epilogue.**

"I freaking hate this suit." Dean groused, examining himself in the mirror. There was a waistcoat and everything. He hadn't felt so stuffed up in his life.

"But you look sexy in it." Cas protested soothingly, joining Dean in front of the mirror.

Dean grinned. "Promise to help me out of it later?"

Cas brought his face closer so that Dean could feel the angel's breath on his face. He leaned in to capture his lips, but Cas leaned back, keeping a bit of space between them. "Not right before the wedding." He warned.

"C'mon, Cas…" Dean grinned.

"No. One thing will lead to another and the next thing we'll be on the floor and we'll miss the ceremony altogether." Cas admonished.

"But…"

"We can have sex all we want during the reception." Cas bribed.

"Hey!" Sam poked his head in.

"Hey, baby brother." Dean replied, grinning as he looked at Sam, all decked out. The younger Winchester was smiling nervously, shifting from foot to foot and smoothing the front of his jacket.

"You have the rings?" Sam asked, his forehead creasing.

Dean frantically patted his pockets, looking nervous. "I… uh…"

Sam looked ready to vomit.

Dean grinned, holding out the rings. Sam glared at him and huffed, "It's not funny."

"Yeah it is." Dean argued, stepping forward and patting Sam on the shoulder. "Don't worry. Everything's going to go great."

Magdalena's death had been the excuse to call Sam, and they'd resolved the situation over the young angel's grave. Dean liked to think that Magdalena would have appreciated it. Maybe she did – she had a soul, after all. Maybe she knew what they were up to, wherever she was.

He certainly hoped that she'd be happy about today. Sammy, his baby brother, was finally getting married. Dean had never dreamed of walking down the aisle (or standing at the podium, as it were) but Sam had always yearned for someone to share his life with, someone to be committed to, someone to love and be loved by unconditionally, with ribbons and rice and something old, new, borrowed and blue to mark the occasion.

In fact, Dean had once caught a ten-year-old Sam in an earnest discussion with some girls at a playground about what they wanted to do for their weddings. Dean had been tempted to check his brother into the hospital to see if he'd grown a vagina.

Now here it was, the big day, and Sam was getting more jittery by the minute.

"How's my tie?" He asked, fiddling with his collar.

"Better than Cas's." Dean remarked, ignoring the angel's halfhearted glare. "You look fine. Now get your big lumbering ass up to the podium."

Sweating bullets, Sam complied, Dean and Cas following him to take their places. Garth and Kevin were already there, giving Sam encouraging thumbs up that probably didn't encourage him at all. Benny had been offered a place, more for Dean's benefit than anything else, but the vampire had instead offered his services guarding the place just in case someone saw it as an opportunity. He was probably circling the church right now, alert for any sign of danger.

"I can't believe you got him out here." Kevin muttered, passing Garth a ten-dollar bill.

"I knew you'd help him calm down." Garth chimed in, looking smug.

Dean made to whisper a reply, but the doors opened and the bridesmaids started walking down the aisle.

He hadn't realized what a place Sam and Amelia had made for themselves in the community until it came time for the wedding. There was a smattering of hunters and a few otherworldly creatures that had paid Amelia's clinic a visit (Dean's fingers itched impulsively), but most of the guests were from the town.

This, Dean realized, was what Sam had always wanted – what Dean had thought he was supposed to want and hadn't been able to achieve. The apple-pie life.

When Amelia appeared, her smile splitting her face, Dean was pretty sure he'd never seen Sam more unguardedly happy in all of his life.

It almost made up for the shockingly large amount this whole shindig had cost.

The reception was held in the grassy field next to the church, where a tent had been erected with an eating and dancing area underneath. Dean somehow made it through his best man speech (which Cas had helped him write, thank God, because he never would have finished it otherwise), drank a little – okay, a lot – of champagne, and danced with some of Amelia's bridesmaids. He didn't catch the garter though because, hey, sister-in-law. No way.

By the time the guests had left and reduced the party to just him, Cas, Sam and Amelia, it was bordering on two a.m.

They'd abandoned the chairs in favor of sitting on the grass outside the tent, where they could see the stars. Sam was leaning back on his hands, Amelia curled onto his lap, not caring if her dress got grass stains. Dean was sitting upright, his legs splayed, with Cas lying in between them, his head on Dean's chest and his arms on Dean's knees. His hair was tickling Dean's neck and if Dean had felt like it, he could have wrapped his arms around the angel. He was definitely considering it.

"So how long's the honeymoon?" Dean asked.

"Two weeks." Amelia said. "In Cape Cod."

It wasn't the Bahamas, but it was a nice place. Cas had gotten the money for it – Dean didn't know and didn't ask, but judging by the news articles it had something to do with the Triads.

"Let us know when you're back. We'll pick you up." Dean said.

He could see by the way his brother chewed on his lip that he was going to drop a bomb.

"Actually… I'm thinking of retiring. Once we're expecting. And we do hope to expect." Sam said, grinning goofily.

"I'll still operate the clinic." Amelia warned.

For some reason, it didn't make the bottom drop out of his stomach. It was as if some part of him had been expecting this, had known that someday, Sam was going to want out.

"Okay." Dean nodded. "We'll just have to make sure to visit."

Cas squeezed his thighs, and Dean breathed in the angel's scent of ozone and cotton and clear sky. Sam was settling down, but that was okay.

Dean had someone else to ride shotgun with him.

:::::::::::::::::::::

She looked around, confused, squinting her eyes against the bright light that seemed to stream from nowhere and everywhere. After a moment she adjusted and began to notice other things in her environment. There was soft grass under her feet, and trees stretching upwards. The air was sweet with the scent of flowers, a gentle breeze keeping it fresh. Everything was bright and colorful, but soft at the same time, not overwhelming.

"Hello, Little One."

Magdalena turned and found herself facing Joshua. The angel leaned on his shovel, smiling warmly at her.

"How?" Magdalena asked, gesturing towards herself.

"It seems that our Father wanted you alive." Joshua said mildly. "He has decided that, with Lucifer fallen, Michael caged, and Raphael and Gabriel dead, our people need a new archangel – a new leader. He has chosen you."

Magdalena frowned. "But… but I was never an archangel, no matter what Gabriel tried to do. He gave me his archangel sword, yes, and I said the oath or whatever but…"

"But you needed our Father's blessing. And you have it." Joshua finished. "He admits that you are not His first choice…"

"Castiel is." Magdalena replied. "Castiel is the best of us all. But our Father must know that Castiel won't accept it."

"No." Joshua agreed. "And that is why He chose you."

"But…"

"Magdalena." The gardener said sternly. "Something is happening – something that has not happened in millennia."

Magdalena regarded him suspiciously. "What's that?"

"He is creating new angels." Joshua whispered with both reverence and joy. "New angels, Magdalena, to be raised by you. Angels that will guard and guide humanity, as we were supposed to before we lost our way."

Magdalena opened her mouth to argue, but Joshua shook his head. "Come." He said, taking her by the arm.

He guided her to a clearing in the middle of the Garden, and there she saw it. A small angel, not even a cherub, his wings nothing more than tiny splotches on his back. When Magdalena saw their color, she laughed. His wings were the same intense green as Dean Winchester's eyes.

"Go on." Joshua said, smiling. "He is the first of many, and yours to raise."

Magdalena carefully made her way over to the young seraph, crouching down in front of him. "Hello." She said. The angel smiled up at her trustingly. "I suppose you'll need a name, won't you?"

The angel nodded. Magdalena thought for a moment, then grinned. If either Castiel or Dean ever heard of this, they would kill her for sure.

"Destiel." She said. "I hereby dub thee Destiel."

The baby angel smiled right back at her, and Magdalena laughed with abandon. If their Father was making angels again… if He supported Castiel and herself…

Maybe it wasn't too late for them after all.

:::::::::::::::::::::

He wasn't entirely sure at first what roused him from sleep. Dean was snoring away, deep in a dreamless slumber. The room was empty, devoid of anything either malevolent or benign.

Castiel made to go back to sleep, to curl up against Dean again, when there was a rustling sound.

The rustle of wings.

He sat up and saw her at the foot of their bed, clad in white, her eyes and face shining. Her wings stretched out behind her, immense and glorious.

"Magdalena?" Castiel whispered, disbelieving.

"Castiel." Magdalena replied happily. "It's good to see that you're happy."

"It's good to see that you're… alive. How did this happen?"

"Our Father." Magdalena's smile grew. "Castiel, our Father is involved again. He is making new angels, and appointed me as the one in charge of raising them. They are to guide and guard humanity, to help humans as we were supposed to – as we once did, before it all went south. He made me an archangel."

"I see." Castiel said. "And why are you visiting me?"

"I can't just stop by to say hello to my favorite sibling?" Magdalena asked.

"You can, but you aren't. You're here for a reason." Castiel replied.

Magdalena made a face. "Unfortunately, yes. Our Father is giving you a choice, Castiel."

"The same choice that He gave Eros." Castiel responded immediately.

Magdalena looked surprised. "You were expecting this."

"I was prepared for it, yes." He replied. "And you know what my answer is."

Magdalena nodded. "From the moment I saw you after you pulled him out of Hell." She said softly.

Castiel smiled reassuringly. "I have a soul, Little One. You will see me again."

"Yes." Magdalena said wistfully. "But it won't be the same."

Castiel got off the bed and stood up, crossing over to pull her into his arms. "You are one of the bravest souls I know, Little One. Whatever happens, you can handle it. And if you truly need me, I will be there."

Magdalena nodded against his chest, holding him tightly. "I know." She whispered. "_I love you, Castiel_." She spoke in their native tongue.

"_I love you too, Little One_."

She pulled back, pressing two fingers to his temple and raising her archangel sword, the one that had once belonged to the Trickster. Castiel felt a tug, a pull on the line that connected him to Heaven and the Host. Magdalena made a swift, downward cut with her sword and then it was as if someone had snapped his connection, cutting him off.

The voices of his brethren were silenced, and he knew that his endless well of Grace now had a bottom.

Magdalena looked incredibly sad. "Use your remaining Grace well." She whispered.

Castiel gently stroked her cheek, kissing her forehead. "Use your power well." He replied.

Magdalena launched herself at him, hugging him fiercely, and he felt a few tears splash onto his chest. Then she pulled back, smiling despite her wet eyes.

There was a rustle of wings, and she was gone.

Castiel let himself relax, his breath heaving out of him. That was it. He wasn't an angel – or wouldn't be for much longer, anyway. Once he ran out of Grace, he would be human, subject to all of the weaknesses that everyone else was.

Dean made a noise and rolled over, his hand groping on the bed, searching. Castiel chuckled and climbed back into bed, wrapping his arms around the hunter. Dean made a noise of contentment and pressed himself against Cas, firmly ensconcing himself in the angel's arms. Cas kissed the back of Dean's neck, breathing in the earthy, manly smell of him.

Yes, he'd be human. Yes, he would be weaker, slower, could be injured and would, sooner or later, die. But he also had Dean, and a life of adventure that stretched out ahead of him like a road. He had good deeds to do and people to help. And he had a soul, so that even when Death claimed them, he'd see Dean again. They'd be together, hopefully in a Heaven that was better than when he left it.

Their limbs intertwined and Dean's heartbeat in his ears, Castiel let himself drift off into sleep.

**Thank you all for reading this and supporting me! I hope that you enjoyed it! I'd love a review to let me know how I did, but the fact that you guys are reading this is amazing enough! Go Team Profound Bond!**


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